The Man with Magic Hands

 It was a Thursday, 7AM, when the officers knocked.

"Oh, you're here," I chirped, grinning. "I was wondering when you'd be needing a statement."

"Mr Rollins? Richard Rollins?" Said one of the officers. He looked rather serious.

"Yes, of course," I replied.

"Mr Rollins, I'm arresting you on suspicion of rape, molestation and operating an illegal brothel. You do not have to say anything. But, it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence."

What the fuck?!

I was shaking as they cuffed me and led me to the car. I was, quite frankly, suddenly very scared.

I've always been a confident, easy going, fairly relaxed kind of guy. You know the sort: happy to have a laugh, not too picky, laissez-fayre. Nothing really ever shocked or phased me. Just an all-round nice bloke.

Now I was just berating myself for being such a twat!

Having dragged me down to the station, I was photographed, fingerprinted and left for a couple of hours in a cell with nothing to do but fret over what the hell had gone wrong. Eventually they escorted me to an interview room.

"Mr Rollins, you're being charged for inviting a Miss Amelia Brown into your home for the purpose of paid sexual intercourse, then molesting and raping her without consent. These alleged crimes took place on July 20th."

What the fuck! Who the hell is Amelia Brown? I thought, wracking my brain.

"According to her allegation, you run a service called 'Magic Hands'. Is that correct?"

Events slowly came into focus and I shuddered. Not because I felt any guilt, but because I suddenly knew I'd been set up, conned and hung out to dry.

***

Chapter 1

***

I suppose I should go back to the beginning and explain about the 'magic hands' thing. To be honest I didn't really notice until I was in my thirties.

I'd always had a great sex life and the women I dated seemed pretty satisfied with my, er... performance, I suppose. But then maybe when you're young you just assume that great sex is the norm.

I remember a New Year's Eve party back in the early 2000s. It was about 2AM. My girlfriend at the time, Lucy, had fallen asleep a couple of hours ago so I was just chilling with a group of loosely connected acquaintances. And as with many alcohol-fuelled conversations, the chat turned to sexuality. And, as usual, the guys were baiting the ladies in the group.

"So who'd you say was the best looking bloke here, then?" said one of the older men. Liam, I think his name was. Fishing for a compliment I thought!

"Certainly not you," chirped the girl on his arm to a chorus of titters. Shot down in flames.

"Looks aren't everything," said one of the older women. "I like a man with..."

"A fucking big cock!" bellowed Liam. More guffaws of laughter, mostly from the men.

"I was going to say nice hands actually," she continued. The ladies in the group nodded approvingly. We all just glanced surreptitiously at our mitts. There was an embarrassing pause whilst everyone tried to think of something amusing to say. Alcohol does that sometimes.

Then Linda spoke. I knew her name because I'd danced with her earlier on and she kept coming back and asking for more. Since my girlfriend was pretty wasted, even before midnight, it seemed only fair that I got to dance with someone!

"Rick has magical hands," she said quietly. I shifted nervously and grimaced as eight pairs of eyes turned my way.

"Where have they been wandering then, naughty boy?" said Liam with a laugh. He clearly liked the sound of his own voice. I blushed.

We quickly moved on to other subjects, but I noticed several of the girls whispering and glancing my way. Linda was looking pleased with herself. It wasn't long before a pretty brunette (Amy, I think her name was!) sidled over, reached out and dragged me into the space doubling as a dance floor. It was a fairly banal pop song but she moved in close, draped her arms over my shoulders and whispered in my ear.

"Put your hands on me."

'Er, OK. Sure, why not?' I thought. That is, after all, the usual way to dance with someone. I put my arms around her waist and we started to gyrate. At first we just circled around for a few moments, but her top was fairly short so my hand slipped down to the bare skin of her midriff. She moaned.

"Oh, wow," she murmured, her head still close to mine.

"Sorry," I stammered, moving my hands back up on to her blouse.

"No! No, it's fine," she cooed. "Your hands are very warm."

I took that as approval to touch her waist again, and again she moaned. I stroked her back in the naked space between her jeans and her top and she gasped. I confess I was finding the response rather erotic. This sort of thing only ever happened in the bedroom. As we continued to gyrate, Amy sank deeper into my shoulder. Her breathing became heavier and she gripped my shoulders as we turned. I realised that Linda had been holding me like that earlier in the evening. Must be the booze, I thought.

"Please keep stroking me," she whispered every time I eased off. So I kept going, sliding my hands under her shirt and up towards her shoulder blades. She was bra-less, so it was a long smooth glide along the sleek muscles of her torso. Her breathing became heavier.

"Oh my God!" she moaned several times and I felt her crotch pressing against the growing bulge in my groin.

"Are you OK?" I asked.

"Fuck yes!" she cooed. "You're a... great dancer." She gazed up at me, smiling. "Are you with someone?"

I confess I hadn't expected a come-on quite so quickly. I nodded towards Lucy, comatose in an armchair in the corner. Someone had draped a sheet over her. It was clear she was out for the night.

Amy looked back at me and cradled her head on my shoulder again. "That's a shame," she said with a sigh.

"I'm not sure what you mean," I replied, although I was 99% sure I knew what she meant. We paused for a moment. I think we both knew what we wanted.

"I need some air," she stated suddenly and taking my hand she led me through the double doors into the garden.

It was a pretty warm night so we ambled across the lawn hand-in-hand. I glanced back at the house, music receding, but no-one seemed to have noticed. The moon was full and I could see it reflected in Amy's eyes and glossy hair.

"Do you get this a lot?" she said. "Girls coming on to you?"

I laughed. "Absolutely not! I usually avoid... you know... compromising situations."

"Like dancing?" she said, grinning.

"Well that's Ok, I guess."

"Really? Do you have any idea what just happened in there?" I was slightly confused but, then again, I'd had quite a few drinks.

She turned into me and put her arms around my shoulders again and we kissed. She leaned into my ear again and whispered.

"You made me cum."

I looked at her in disbelief. "What? While we were...?" She nodded.

"Just stroking my back. Just like Linda said you would. Magic Hands."

By this time we'd shuffled behind some trees into a secluded spot, kissing as we went. Amy reached down and unbuttoned her jeans, she opened them slightly and loosened them so that I could slip my hands down on to her soft cheeks. I caught her panties with my fingers and slipped my hands underneath and stroked her bum. She gasped again.

"Fuck, that is sooo good," she sighed, pressing herself against me.

To be honest the idea that I was getting this girl off just by stroking her arse was a bit unusual but I certainly wasn't going to stop! I pushed one hand between her cheeks and let a finger slide down to her vulva. I could feel the soft folds of her labia. I squeezed them and she shuddered, tightening her grip on my shoulders. I slid my fingers between her labia to find her clit. She was soaking wet.

"Yes! Yes! Don't stop," she moaned, arching her back and thrusting against my hand. She clenched her buttocks and I felt a flood of warm fluid across my fingers as she came. I held her tight with my other arm as she shuddered against my hand, gasping with each spasm. It was a beautiful, electric feeling, and I realised that, actually, yes, this had happened before with various girlfriends. Always during sex and usually while we were naked. I had always assumed it was normal.

As she slowly came down from her orgasm I muttered "So that hasn't happened to you before then? On the dance floor, I mean. Like, with other guys?"

She looked at me grinning. "No way. You are something very special."

We found a wooden bench further down the garden and sat snogging. I suddenly recalled something.

"You said 'just like Linda said'. I was dancing with her earlier."

"Yep, she said you gave her an orgasm too." My brain was slowly clearing in the fresh air and starting to fit parts of the evening together.

"She didn't say anything!" I mused. .

"That's because her husband was right next to you." Clarity was starting to emerge. So I'd somehow brought off a married woman right in front of her other half, on a dance floor, just by touching her. I grinned and chuckled.

"I must try that more often!"

Amy had unzipped my jeans and was carefully releasing my very hard and twitching penis. I glanced nervously back at the house but it was clear nobody else was outside and besides we were in shadow.

"I think it's time you got your reward," she cooed as she leaned down and took my cock between her lips.

After the revelations of the party, I noticed more and more how my hands seemed to have unusual effects on women. A handshake would linger a little longer than necessary. Any kind of touch would create a little shiver, or a big smile. I would often receive comments like 'what warm hands you have!' It was fun to ask a random woman if I could just brush a bug off her shoulder and then watch her reaction as I touched her with my fingers - little electric sparks penetrating the skin and presumably making their way down to her loins.

And then, of course, there was dancing.

It's surprising how little contact humans have in everyday life. As a graphic designer, I spent much of my life behind a desk. And although I played badminton and tennis, It's very rare that you actually touch your opponents. I'm not sure if my 'gift' had any effect on men, but I shudder to think how life might have turned out if I'd played rugby!

But on the dance floor, skin contact is almost mandatory.

I wouldn't say I was much of a 'looker' if you know what I mean. Not exactly Brad Pitt material. But I found myself heading out to the local club on Friday and Saturday nights, brimming with confidence. At first I struggled with approaching girls and asking them to dance. I was often met with indifference, or a firm put down. But once I reached over and rested my fingers on a girl's arm, everything changed. Eyes would light up. Lips would part and curl into a smile. That was essentially how I met Laura.

"Sorry. Tired. Enjoying my drink," she said at first. She was hovering at the bar with a couple of mates. Previously I would have been petrified of approaching a group of girls in such a situation. But not tonight. I touched her arm.

"Maybe later?" I said, resting my hand across her wrist. Her eyes lit up and she hesitated. I guess the magic had stirred something down below. She looked at me deeply.

"Actually, why not," she said and took my hand. We trotted out on to the dance floor.

"Laura," she stated, gripping my hands and pulling me into a bop.

"Rick," I replied simply.

It was a lively song so little opportunity to touch but Laura was clearly enjoying herself. Like most men, I just tried to keep in time! After a couple of minutes the tune changed and the tempo slowed. That was my opportunity to move in close.

"There's something about you," she murmured as we gyrated. My hands were brushing her bare arms, sending shivers through her body.

"People say I have magic hands," I replied. On reflection that was pretty lame but I was beginning to think it might actually be true.

"mmm," she cooed softly above the music. "So what else can you do with them?" She was grinning, enjoying my touch.

"Come back to my place and I'll show you." I reached around and slid my hands under her blouse, pressing my palms into the small of her back. She shuddered and pressed herself against me.

"I can't wait that long!" she cried, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the exit. I thought that maybe we were leaving, but she diverted towards the toilets and dragged me into the ladies.

"Oi! Girls room!" Shouted someone from the sinks.

"Fuck off," said Laura sternly, pulling me into a cubicle. "I need cock!" She closed the door to a chorus of giggles from the room. "You go, girl!" someone shouted.

Laura pushed me against the wall and kissed me hard. Her hands were already tugging at my jeans and I wasn't complaining, so I unclipped the buttons and she pulled them down unceremoniously. My cock sprung into view, already hardening from her kisses. She stroked it and kissed me again.

"I want you inside me," she whispered.

Now I may be a little shy about approaching women, but there's no hesitation when it comes to getting laid! I spun her around and she leaned against the opposite wall. Pulling up her skirt, I reached underneath and cupped her crotch through her panties. She groaned as I rubbed her, feeling the moisture through the cotton. She slipped them off, discarding them on the floor and spread her legs. I reached around with both hands and pressed my cock against her crack.

I kept one hand between her legs as I fumbled in my pocket for a condom. I was going to unwrap it but she stopped me from pulling away.

"Don't stop," she cooed, breathlessly. "I'll do it."

In a surprisingly agile move, she took the condom, ripped it open and reached around to place it over the head of my pole. All without turning. It's surprising what you can do in the heat of lust. She was still rocking against my fingers. I rolled the johnny down with my spare hand and guided it to her opening. It slipped into her wet snatch and we both gasped.

"Oh yea," I grunted as I thrust into her. I could feel her contraction almost immediately and she panted and groaned as I fucked her against the wall of the cubicle.

"My tits," she murmured. "Touch my tits!"

I reached up with both hands and cupped her boobs. They were small but with very pert nipples and as I brushed my palms across them she came. As her vagina contracted I couldn't hold back and thrust hard into her, pulsing as I came with her.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I grunted as I unloaded. It was only at that point that we both remembered it was a public toilet. It was very quiet outside the cubicle. Someone giggled and started clapping which was briefly followed by applause and laughter.

***

Laura turned out to be quite a voracious young woman. She was soon popping in most evenings after work.

"Just lay those wicked hands on me," she purred as she stripped and lay back on the bed. I started rubbing her feet, moving up her calves and thighs. She shivered with anticipation. By the time I reached the inside of her thighs, I could see she was wet, droplets oozing from her labia. I stroked her tummy and brushed a finger over her pussy lightly.

"Yes please," she cried.

"Not yet," I chuckled. "Make it last!" I continued rubbing her torso, moving along the sides of her stomach towards her breasts.

"Oh, God, yes!" she cried out as I glided over her nipples. She arched her back and shook gently.

"For fuck's sake, have you cum already? I've hardly touched you!" She just grinned like the Cheshire cat.

"You're insatiable!" I said leaning across to kiss her.

"It's not me, big boy." she murmured. "It's that electric touch of yours. Nobody else I know can do this to me."

I climbed between her legs which she parted to make way. As I slid into her wet pussy, she shuddered again. I rather enjoyed the fact that, having satisfied my woman, there was no need to hold back. Sometimes a slow gentle thrusting, or just holding myself inside her, like those Indian Tantric stories you hear, feeling her vagina throb. And at other times I would simply fuck her hard and fast, pounding that tight wet pussy as she arched and screamed. She clawed at my back leaving long red welts as I emptied my balls into her cunt. Then we'd collapse on the bed, panting hard.

I lay on my side one evening, taking in her gorgeous body, flushed and glistening.

"I wish all women were as easy to please as you are!" I said, although to be fair I can't say I'd ever had any complaints.

"How many women have you shagged?" She asked.

"Not enough!" I replied. "And they don"t always come back."

She stared at me. "I find that hard to believe. I'm hanging on to you for as long as you let me. In fact, I'd bloody pay you for it if I had too!" I chuckled at the thought.

***

Things had not been going that well at work. The company was losing money and it was a Friday morning when the boss took me to one side.

"Rick, you're a great designer, but things are pretty bad. We have to do something to save money. How to do feel about cutting back to a couple of days a week?"

Obviously I was gutted. I loved my job. But after a chat I realised there really wasn't much choice. It was going to be a struggle but I thought I might be able to get some freelance work to make up. I told Laura over the weekend.

"Babes, that's horrible," she sighed.

We made love as usual that evening and she was very quiet for a few minutes afterwards.

"I'm probably going to regret this," she started, turning towards me. "But have you thought about massage?"

I was momentarily confused. "I'd love one, thanks," I replied. "Can you start on my shoulders?"

"No sweetie. I mean giving massage. You have very, um... skilful hands. I imagine there would be quite a demand." She grinned and the penny dropped. I thought about the idea for a minute.

"So you're suggesting I offer some kind of erotic service?" I said. I must confess the idea had a certain appeal. "And you'd be Ok with that?"

"I suppose," she said softly. "I mean, we're not exactly an item. I can't stop you seeing other women. And besides, you wouldn't need to fuck them. Just use those magic hands of yours."

I laughed. "A gigolo?"

"Professional Masseur," she murmured. "With a very happy ending. You'd make a fucking fortune."

Chapter 3

***

Training to be a masseur involves three basic stages. Firstly, you need to study your anatomy 101. Bone and muscle structure. Lymph system. And then what they call 'contra-indications': conditions that would prevent a safe or healthy massage.

Next is learning the technique. There are long gliding strokes (effleurage), kneading and rolling (petrissage) and pummelling or percussion moves (tapotement). It's all very structured and efficient. Each move prepares the body for the next, warming the skin, stretching and relaxing the muscles, then clearing knotted muscle tissue, increasing blood flow and draining the lymph system of toxins. Once you understand the process you start to respect the skill of the masseur, as well as recognising the process of relaxing and unwinding in safe, skilled hands.

And finally you must practice. Which of course, requires some bodies to work on.

I was the only male on the course. There were four of us. Two of the girls were in their early twenties, plus an older woman, Jenny, who was maybe late thirties? The tutor, Wendy, was a little older still. Quite brusque and matter-of-fact. Reminded me of an old teacher of mine. It was slightly surreal, sitting in a dimly-lit room chatting about shoulders, thighs and the importance of maintaining propriety with each client.

"So you would invite them to undress and lay on the couch," said Wendy firmly "And then leave the room for a few minutes while they get ready. Especially you, Rick!"

I blushed and they giggled. I felt like a schoolboy being reprimanded by the headmistress for peeking at a girl's knickers.

"So are you all ready for some proper massage practice?" She continued. We nodded enthusiastically.

"Good. We're going to start by working in pairs. Rick you can work with Jenny in the Jade Room. Sarah and Liz will be in Amethyst. Decide amongst yourselves who is going first."

I swallowed. So this is it then, I thought. Time to actually try massaging a real person.

Jenny was a little shy so I offered to be the first 'client'. She left the room while I stripped and lay face down on the couch, covering as much as possible with the blanket. I was slightly worried about getting aroused, since Jenny was an attractive woman, but we'd discussed the issue in some depth so I knew that erections in men were perfectly normal in such a relaxing setting. Masseurs are taught to 'cover & ignore'. Strict professionalism you know!

It was delightful. Jenny was a little hesitant. It was, after all, her first time. But she performed the moves with her tiny soft hands, silent throughout as instructed. Having never been professionally massaged, I began to understand how wonderful it feels. Then it was time to swap.

I re-entered the room a short while later. Jenny was face down on the couch, resting her head on her hands. Her hair was tied in a bun leaving her neck exposed. Moment of truth, I thought.

"I'll start with some effleurage to the back and shoulders," I said softly, warming a palmful of oil in my hands. I placed them on her back and gently glided up to her shoulder blades.

"Oh," she squeaked. "Wow."

Continuing to work her back in long strokes, my hands moved up to her shoulders and curled around her neck softly, pulling back and down the length of her spine. She was breathing steadily. I felt her legs move apart slightly under the blanket. I guess the magic hands are working then, I mused.

"That's...incredible," she moaned. I applied a little extra pressure into her shoulders, drawing my hands across to her arms, then around and onto her back again.

"Oh... Oh dear... Oh shit," she said, shifting uncomfortably. She had begun sweating.

"Are you alright?" I asked, although it was becoming clear that she wasn't. I lifted my hands off her body and stepped back.

Jenny twisted slightly, grabbed the sheet and sat up. She was flushed. She looked at me for a moment.

"Sorry," she stuttered. "I, er... got a little distracted." She blushed red and fanned herself. The sheet slipped slightly and her left boob popped into view. I turned away quickly.

There was a knock on the door which startled us both.

"Everything OK in there," called Wendy. Jenny dropped back on the couch, pulling up the sheet, just as Wendy walked in.

"All OK I think," I muttered, trying to compose myself.

"He's very good," mumbled Jenny, head buried in the couch.

Wendy looked at us both suspiciously, shrugged and turned back to the door.

"Excellent," she stated matter-of-factly. "Keep an eye on your timing."

As the door closed Jenny sat up and the sheet dropped to the floor. "Come here," she purred.

"Er, shouldn't I be..."

"Shush, just come here."

I moved towards her naked body and she took my hands and placed them on her breasts. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and sighed, pushing one hand down across her tummy, between her thighs and into her panties. I cupped her crotch and slipped a finger inside her warm pussy. She bit her lips, trying not to moan. I could feel the urgency in her breath as she guided my hand so that my finger slipped in and out of her opening. She was already quite wet. She reached up and kissed me, forcing her tongue into my mouth.

I was rock hard and as horny as hell but acutely conscious that Wendy could waltz in at any moment.

"This is all very unprofessio..." I whispered but she clamped her mouth over mine and kissed me hard.

"Shut up," she whispered quietly in my ear, still holding one hand over her boob which I squeezed gently, as she rocked against the other. Her vagina contracted around my finger and she came with a jolt, gasping as quietly as she could, panting close to my ear. Her legs shook for a few seconds and I felt her hot cum wash over my fingers on to the couch cover.

After a few seconds she relaxed and lay back on the couch with a huge sigh. I stood there, fingers sticky with her fluids, wondering what to do next. I knew I needed to calm down and finish the massage but it all seemed, well, a little unnecessary. Jenny looked pretty relaxed to me!

***

I got a call from her about a week later. Did I want to come to a party she was holding? "Sure, why not," I said. Since Laura was away with friends I had a free weekend so it seemed harmless enough.

It was a rather nice detached town house and clearly the party was in full swing when I arrived. Jenny answered the door.

"How's the business going?" she said as she ushered me in. I looked at her blankly. "Massage?" She said.

"Oh, right!" I replied. "Haven't really got started yet. Need a couch and sheets and all that."

"Oh, you must do it," she beamed. "In fact, come with me." She led me to a small side room. It was stunning. Tastefully decorated with spiritual pictures, a buddha in one corner and candles dotted along the shelves. And a large permanent couch set up in the middle of the room.

"Nice set up!"

"Cost a small fortune," she confided. "Did I mention that my husband is a lawyer?"

I stared at her for a second. A husband? It hadn't occurred to me. And she hadn't worn a ring during our massage training. I gulped.

"It's fine," she whispered. "Just our little secret, eh?"

We wandered back to the lounge and she said hello to a few friends and neighbours, introducing me as a fellow massage therapist. I got more than a few furtive glances from the ladies, most of whom were clearly with their husbands and partners.

"Amanda Clay is definitely up for a bit of fun," whispered Jenny as we moved around the room. "She's been banging her gardener for over a year. Vanessa Martin probably. Absolutely minted that one. Oh and let me introduce Maya. I know for a fact that she's gagging for some attention. Her husband's a total prat."

She introduced me to Maya and Andy. I took them to be a fair bit older, maybe early fifties. Andy seemed Ok to me, a large and rather ruddy character. Maya was a short, dark skinned woman with long black hair. She nodded slightly as I shook her hand which she held tightly for a few seconds, reluctantly letting go as I pulled it back.

"So you're a masseur?" Said Andy. "You're into that kind of thing aren't you, honey," he continued, addressing Maya. She nodded silently.

"The therapy room is all set up," chirped Jenny. "Why don't you give it a test run for me?"

"Hey, That's a great idea," boomed Andy. "You said you were a bit stiff, honey. Rick's offering a free massage."

Maya and I stared at each other for a second. I blushed. This wasn't quite what I was expecting and it all seemed a little, well, sudden. But Maya was smiling.

"Sure, if you like," I shrugged. "I need some practice."

Jenny led us back to the therapy room and showed me where everything was. She whispered something in Maya's ear and then turned to me.

"Look after her, eh?" she grinned. "And have fun! Oh, and by the way, the door has a lock."

We looked at each other nervously. "I should probably leave the room," I said.

"You don't need to worry," she said, unbuttoning her blouse. "I'm not shy. And besides you are going to run your hands all over my naked body, right?" We giggled.

She undressed down to her bra and knickers and lay on the couch. As she lay forwards she reached back and unclipped her bra, pulling it away. I rubbed some oil into my hands and began working on her back.

We stayed silent for a few minutes while I massage her back and shoulders. She sighed a few times as I worked.

"Everything Ok?" I muttered.

"Perfect," she purred. She had very delicate skin and good muscle tone. Not like Schwarzenegger, of course, but she clearly kept in shape.

"May I ask what Jenny said to you?" I ventured quietly.

"She said she'd keep my husband occupied so I could enjoy myself," she giggled.

"Oh right. So That's, like, girl code for...something?"

"Something nice, I hope. This massage is making me very horny. Do you offer happy endings?"

I glance nervously at the door, then back at Maya's beautiful body. Hell, why not! It was clear that consent had been given, so I slipped my hands down under the sheet and over her buttocks. She wriggled and parted her legs slightly. I slipped a hand between her legs and began stroking her pussy rhythmically. She arched her back and groaned. As I massaged her, she dropped her arm down and reached for my groin, fondling my bulge through my trousers. It hardened at her touch.

Suddenly she pulled my hand away and twisted on to her side. Fumbling with my zip, she released my cock which sprang into view almost slapping her across the face. She giggled again, took a firm grip with one hand and guided it into her mouth.

Jee. Sus. Christ! That felt unbelievable! She may have been an older woman, but she sucked like a rampant teenager, lapping at my shaft and sucking the end of my cock like a true professional. I lifted her leg so I could reach between her thighs and finger her pussy again. She clamped her legs around my hand and pushed against me, increasing her pace on my throbbing penis. This was turning into a massage made in heaven. I secretly sent a little prayer of thanks to Laura for the whole idea, wherever she was. Partying with her mates in the Algarve, I think.

Maya was close to climax and I could feel her legs twitching. I slipped two fingers inside her and felt her vaginal walls contract.

"mmmmmmm" she was moaning and I felt her spasm and twitch, legs shaking. Incredibly, she kept my cock in her mouth the whole time and a few seconds later I felt the jizz rising and grunted as I shot my load on to the back of her tongue. She held still as I spurted a few times, slowly coming down. And then she swallowed.

She released me and I dropped back into a chair in the corner, cock still waving in the air, dribbling with excess cum. Maya beamed at me from the couch.

"Can I book you for a regular session?" she grinned. "My husband says I need to relax more."

Chapter 4

***

My new massage practice had started with a bang. Literally! I ordered a mobile couch and all the paraphernalia needed, including some very sensual fragrant oil. And as a graphic designer, it only took a few minutes to throw together some simple business cards. I was up and running in a week.

Laura seemed pleased. Admiring my couch which I'd set up in my cramped living room, she bent over it and wiggled her bum in my direction.

"Any clients yet?" she grinned.

"As it happens, yes, just the one," I retorted. "But I picked up a few contacts last week."

In truth, Jenny had jotted down half a dozen names and numbers and slid them into my hand at the end of the party. All women. All married. "I'll spread the word for you," she cooed. "And if you want my advice: whatever you charge, double it. These ladies can afford it."

"It wasn't my intention to..." I started but she cut me off with a wave.

"I know talent when I see it and I know you're going to give my friends a very satisfying service." She leaned in to my ear. "And you can pop over and thank me when hubby's away on business." She pecked me on the cheek and winked as I left.

Laura was still wiggling her bottom over the couch.

"So I suppose they'll be wanting some happy endings," she murmured.

"It was your idea!" I exclaimed. "Don't go all bunny boiler on me now!"

"I know! I know! I'm not complaining," she said. "But I think I should be the one to Christen the couch, don't you think?"

I laughed and pulled her up. "You'd better strip then, and lie back."

I tried the best I could to give her a massage, but of course she was wriggling and writhing within minutes. After the second orgasm, she begged me to fuck her, but I insisted.

"This is supposed to be a proper massage so keep still and enjoy it."

"Oh I'm definitely enjoying it!" She chirped as I rolled her on to her back. "I bet your new client must be in heaven!"

"She isn"t as sensitive and twitchy as you," I laughed. Then I leaned in and whispered. "But yes, she seemed very satisfied."

"Show me what you did to her," she said lasciviously. I stared at her for a moment. She looked back with a wicked smile. It felt a little weird talking about another woman, but what the hell, I thought.

I stood at the end of the couch and parted her legs, gliding my hands along the length of her calves and thighs, up towards her pussy. My fingers brushed over the outer folds of her vulva and she shivered. I stroked them, gently squeezing her labia together. She was soaking wet from her earlier orgasms and fluid oozed out. I ran my thumb into the folds and it brushed against her clitoris. She arched her back and moaned loudly.

While my thumb and fingers were massaging her vulva, I brought my other hand up and rested it on her thighs. I gently rubbed her slit with two fingers to moisten them and slipped them into her opening. It tightened around them as she gasped and I could feel that she was close to yet another orgasm.

Laura was breathing hard and moaning as I rocked my fingers in and out of her vagina.

"Harder," she panted. I increased the pace and pressure.

"More," she cried. "Fuck me hard with your fingers!"

Always good at following instructions, I pummelled her pussy, pushing hard up into her cunt and rhythmically sliding, rotating and curling my fingers. The inside of her cunt was pulsing and squeezing as she writhed and moaned loudly. I kept pinching her labia and rubbing her clit hard with my thumb.

She grabbed my hands and pushed them hard against her groin, her pussy gripping my fingers tightly inside.

"Oh Jesus! Oh God! Oh yes!" She cried out. It seems her prayers must have been answered because the waters parted and a flood gushed out of her pussy, washing over my hands. Her legs were shaking wildly as she came several times. Or maybe it was one long orgasm, that aspect of the female anatomy is still a mystery to me. It was rather wonderful to watch her, flushed and glistening with sweat, writhing and bucking with our hands clamped around her pussy.

Eventually the orgasm subsided and she relaxed back on to the couch.

"That. Was. Fucking. Amazing." She said after a few moments.

"Glad you enjoyed it," I replied softly, wiping down the end of the couch with a towel. "You realise That's seventy five quids worth of massage?" I grinned.

She grinned back. "Baby, you're not charging enough!"

 

***

My new enterprise seemed to be going rather well. Within a couple of weeks I had several new clients, including Maya of course. I felt the occasional twinge of worry about going into the homes of married women to essentially get them off or fuck them, even though it was wrapped in the pretence of a "professional relaxation massage". God forbid if any of the husbands turned up unexpectedly! But none of the ladies seemed in the slightest bit concerned, welcoming me into their bedrooms with open arms (and legs ha-ha!)

To keep on top (excuse the pun) I started keeping client notes, as any good masseur should.

Maya (husband: Andy). Loves firm pressure, hands and fingers. Awesome BJs.

Janet (husband: Ray). Quite shy, keep it gentle. Lots of breast play.

Susan (husband: Peter). Loves to be licked, then fucked doggy style.

And now I was getting calls too. Furtive conversations from curious ladies who'd heard "on the grapevine" that my massage technique was "first class." The words "magic hands" were mentioned several times, so I adopted it as my brand: "Magic Hands Massage - for discerning ladies who like to be pampered." The list was growing and I was raking in a few quid. Worries about extra design work soon disappeared.

***

Vanessa was one of my 'party-list' contacts from Jenny, months ago. After a couple of text messages, she asked if I could meet her at a gym. Seemed a bit odd but she said not to worry, there was a room all ready. 'Just turn up. Brings hands.' She texted with a little smiley emoji.

The guy on reception showed me up to the room which was small but serviceable. Massage couch set up, a chair and a small bale of towels in one corner.

"Just finished her power circuits," he said nonchalantly. "Probably in the shower."

She strode in about five minutes later, clad in jogging bottoms and a tank top, still towelling her wet hair. Wow, I thought. She was around 5"8, clearly fit, and I guessed around mid 40s. She looked like a woman who took care of herself.

"Jenny says you're good," she said conversationally and stripped out of her clothes, throwing them over the chair. It was literally just jogging bottoms and a tank top. Nothing more. I was still slightly gobsmacked at how attractive and uninhibited she seemed to be. She paused, completely naked in front of me, lightly trimmed below, nicely defined legs, arms and shoulders, and the hint of a six pack. Her shapely breasts and pert nipples pointed straight at me.

"Eyes up, soldier," she laughed. I snapped out of my reverie.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "I Haven't been doing this long."

"Don't worry," she grinned as she hopped on the couch. "To be honest with you, neither have I! More of a cardio session and long hot bath kind of girl."

She paused. "Are you OK with me naked? I mean, you can cover me up if you like? I'm easy either way." Hell, no! I screamed. In my head.

"Er... whatever makes you comfortable," I mumbled.

She looked at me and smiled again.

"I'll just lay back and let you do your thing. Just a massage is fine." You bet, I thought, preparing my oils whilst trying not to drool over her stunning body.

I massaged her in silence and could see that the "sexual magic" was pulsing through her. She breathed deeply and relaxed. After a while she exhaled with a sigh and smiled.

"I see what Jenny means," she murmured. "This is really very sensual."

"If there's anything else you want...?" I started but wasn't really sure how to continue.

She sighed. "Oh, I can assure you there is. But not here."

To be honest she could have asked for pretty much anything. A good hard shag. Kiss my toes. A pint of milk from the corner store. I felt like a lovestruck teenager.

We finished in silence and she shucked on her clothes and thanked me.

"I'll sort out something more private for next time," she grinned as she waltzed out. I was slightly in awe as I washed my hands and headed out.

"Everything go OK?" said the guy behind the counter as I passed.

"Perfect," I replied. "She's, er, pretty amazing. Must have been coming here a long time to get that ripped."

He grinned. "Vanessa? Of course. She owns the place!"

***

The next appointment was made by someone else. Her assistant at the gym maybe? I thought.

"Miss Martin asked if you could fit her in early," said the lady on the line whose name I missed. "Is 7AM possible?"

I thought I must have taken down the wrong address when I pulled up. Flashy downtown office building, all glass and mirrors. Didn't look like anything to do with gyms. I sent her a quick text.

"Just come up" she replied. "10th Floor."

Well this should be interesting, I thought. As I dragged my mobile couch through the vast empty lobby and into the lift, I guessed she was some kind of corporate executive.

The lift opened into a plush open office. There was a reception desk near the entrance and I could see a glass fronted office behind it that looked out on to the skyline. Vanessa appeared from a side room.

I only fucking did it again! Stared dumbstruck at her, that is. Sharp, grey pencil skirt, crisp white blouse and silk scarf. Her hair was done up in some kind of fancy bun. She was perfectly manicured. Dazzling.

"You won't need that," she said, nodding to the massage couch I'd just dragged all the way up.

She grinned as she approached then stopped and gave me a twirl.

"You're going to have to get used to this," she purred. "Can't have your jaw dragging along the floor when there are employees around."

"I am so sorry," I blurted out. "I just... You're just..." I wasn't handling this very well.

She laughed. "Don't worry. Nobody else here at the moment. We have at least an hour before the troops arrive."

She led me across the vast office. It was tastefully decorated.

"Nice place," I said absentmindedly. "Who's your boss?" She turned and grinned again, raising her eyebrows. The penny finally dropped.

"Oh, shit! Of course! You're the boss!"

"Didn't you notice the name in big blue letters on the outside of the building: Martin Healthcare?" She whispered. "I own the whole company." I blushed and she laughed again.

She opened the door to a side room and ushered me in.

"Ta da!" She squealed with glee.

It was an immaculate, fully equipped massage therapy room. Beautifully decorated, low lighting, large couch and soft faux fur cover.

"Had it installed last week. Just for you and me," she cooed, obviously pleased with herself.

She slipped out of her clothes as I prepared my oils. She was buzzing with enthusiasm as we chatted.

"This is completely secure and soundproof," she said. "If you fancy, you know, getting naked too, I'd be fine with that. Unless that makes you uncomfortable?"

"Are you kidding?" I replied and started undressing. "Please excuse me for being inquisitive, but surely you could have just about any guy?"

She laughed as she lay back on the couch. "Yes, I've been round the block few times," she said matter-of-factly. "Most men aren't worth my time."

Well, I'm way out of her league, I thought as I worked on her shoulders. Just the massage guy, I guess.

Being naked in a situation like this is incredibly liberating. Vanessa clearly had no inhibitions. She sighed and heaved and moaned as I worked across her body. Her hands and arms would periodically brush against my thighs and crotch. She guided my hands to her breasts and crotch.

"You don't need to be shy," she moaned. "Your touch is beautiful. I've heard what you can do, so don't hesitate."

I stroked her tits, tweaking the nipples gently, then ran my hands all the way from her shoulders down her torso, thighs and calves to her feet. She raised her arms back behind her head.

"Do that again," she murmured, grinning.

I flipped her over several times, kissing and sucking her toes, kneading her buttocks and lightly scratching her skin all over her body with my nails. She shivered and squirmed and squealed like a schoolgirl.

"Oh my goodness, this is so lovely," she moaned.

As I reached her vulva and started cupping her labia, she shuddered again. These magic hands do have a habit of moving things along nicely!

"I know we've only met twice," she cooed. "But I would really enjoy it if you made love to me." She paused. "Would that be possible?" She said meekly.

My brain did a few mental leaps and high fives. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING!

I pulled her up into a sitting position and kissed her full on the lips. Her tongue darted in and out of my mouth. My cock was so hard I thought I was about to explode, which would have put a bit of a downer on the session for sure. She must have sensed my heightened state because she twisted round and clamped her legs around me over the edge of the couch.

"We don't have much time left, though," she whispered as my cock slid into her snatch. "Just go for it."

Forget the money, the business, the body - the girl was a fucking sexual goddess! Uninhibited, confident, passionate and, of course, smoking hot! If I'd had a handy diamond ring I would have dropped to my knees and proposed there and then.

As it was, I thrust into her and she thrust back, holding me tight and breathing hard into my ear. We groaned and moaned for a few seconds but I just couldn't hold back.

"Fuck yes, I'm gonna cum," I grunted.

"Yes please," she whispered. "Let me feel you cum inside. Empty yourself into me."

As I reached the point of no return she squealed and I felt her vagina tighten, sucking my cock even further inside. It squeezed and throbbed around my dick sending waves of orgasmic pleasure through my body. We shouted out together from the earth-shattering pleasure of simultaneous orgasm.

We collapsed onto the couch, still wrapped in each others arms, totally spent, panting and giggling like a couple of virgins who just discovered the joy of sex.

I managed to compose myself after a few minutes and clambered off the couch. Vanessa sat up and brushed her hair back into place. She sighed, looked across at me and grinned.

"Thank you so much," she said, gratefully. "Same time next week?"

I was still riding the high, but realised our session was over. As we dressed silently I realised that I was, indeed, just the massage guy. 'She's a wonderful, fun, warm, passionate woman, but it was just a business transaction,' I thought glumly.

Chapter 5

***

Jenny messaged me one Monday morning.

'Husband out of town. You owe me some compensation for all those ladies I've sent your way.'

'LOL. Payment in kind?' I replied, and headed over to her place. She ushered me into her home and guided me towards the living room.

"This is Ruth," she said as I entered the room, slighty surprised to find a tall, silver haired woman sitting upright on the sofa. She was a striking lady. Slender, with finely chiselled features and deep blue eyes that sparkled as she smiled.

"So you're the man with magic hands," she purred deeply. It was an incredibly sexy voice, deep and resonant.

I said hello and we exchanged pleasantries. It looked like I was going to be asked to give Ruth my special treatment. So Jenny's pimping me out to her more of her friends, I chuckled in my head, with a sly smile.

There was short pause then Jenny simply said, "Would you be willing to do a double massage today?" It took me a moment to process the idea. Why not, I thought. No rush to get anywhere.

"Sure!" I said. "Who's first?"

Jenny sat next to Ruth and took her hands, gazing at her. Ruth smiled and they both turned towards me.

"We were thinking: together," purred Ruth in her sexy, deep voice.

"Maybe on the bed upstairs?" added Jenny. "Bit more space."

Yes, I'm pretty thick and I'm a lifelong straight male with absolutely zero 'gay-dar' recognition skills. But it eventually hit me.

"Oh," I stuttered. "So you two are...?"

Jenny giggled. "Isn't it obvious?" I blushed.

They led the way to the master bedroom. I'd fantasised about an FFM three-way all my life (what red-blooded male hasn't?) but I was suddenly as nervous as hell. Massaging and pleasing a straight lady is one thing but two women together? This was new territory.

"Don't worry," murmured Jenny as we entered the bedroom. "We'll look after you."

Ruth was unbuttoning her blouse. Jenny gyrated sexily and unzipped her skirt. They danced around each other sensually, teasing each other as they stripped. I, on the other hand, just stood there, jaw on the floor, cock hardening in my jeans.

"Are you going to join us, sweetie," cooed Ruth. "Or just watch." They were both down to bra and knickers. Ruth put her arms around Jenny and they hugged and kissed deeply. I'll be honest, I almost came in my pants!

I ripped off my clothes and joined them on the bed as they lay back side by side.

"Why don't you start with feet and legs," said Jenny. "Then Ruth will understand what I've been telling her for weeks!"

I swallowed. Two beautiful woman, clearly gagging for action. I was going to have to take this slow and steady. I massaged their feet, gently pinching the toes and kneading the ball of each foot. Ruth sighed as I moved my hands up and over the calves. Jenny turned towards her and they started kissing.

They ignored me, tongues entwined, but they were both moaning at my touch. In a bizarre way I felt more comfortable. Less focus on me I guess. I worked on their legs and thighs, switching from woman to woman.

Jenny sat up and pushed Ruth back on the bed. "She loves being eaten out," she said. "Fancy some hot pussy?"

I didn't need any further encouragement and slid up between Ruth's legs and buried my face in her crotch. She gasped as my tongue found her pussy and I dragged my tongue up her slit and over her clit.

"Oh my!" She squealed, wrapping her legs around my shoulders.

Jenny was crouching near her head and leaned across her, cupping and squeezing her breasts. I pushed my tongue deeper and Ruth moaned loudly.

As I continued to work her snatch with my mouth, I peeked up. They were kissing again, in that awkward upside-down position. I'd tried it a couple of times over the years and felt it totally odd, but they made it look unbelievably sexy.

"Please fuck me, Rick," moaned Ruth. That was an invitation I wasn't going to refuse so I kneeled between her thighs and pulled her legs up around my body. As I entered her, she shuddered. I started gently rocking into her lovely wet snatch.

Jenny climbed over and planted her pussy on to Ruth's face, which disappeared. All I could see was her chin poking out from Jenny's shaved crotch.

"Yes, darling, use your tongue," cried Jenny. Ruth mumbled something incomprehensible and went to work.

I was thrusting steadily, and Jenny rocked backwards and forwards across Ruth's face. She leaned towards me and we kissed, sucking each other's mouths. I guess she tasted Ruth's juice on my tongue because she murmured and licked her lips.

"You are just delicious," she cooed and clamped her mouth over mine.

I was getting close and worrying about how I was going to satisfy both of these voracious females. I slowed a little trying to control myself.

"It's OK," whispered Jenny. "You can let go. Fill her up." I could see Ruth nodding and grunting from under Jenny's legs, still lapping at her pussy. I wondered if that really qualified as consent to give her my cream pie, but by the time I'd finished the thought it was too late and I pumped her one last time and grunted, emptying my balls into her hot pussy. Fuck me, what a shag! I thought, elated.

I collapsed on to the bed, but they weren't finished. Jenny rode Ruth's face for a few more seconds then cried out and shuddered as she came. She clambered off, leaving Ruth's face glistening with sticky cum and clamped her mouth around her pussy. She must have enjoyed the taste of my fresh cream in Ruth's hole because she licked and sucked hard, bring Ruth to a shuddering orgasm. Then they both collapsed onto the bed next to me, breathing hard, but giggling with joy.

I wondered whether I might actually have died in my sleep, and this was my private heaven!

You're probably thinking the whole massage thing is an easy ride (if you'll excuse the pun) but it hasn't all been plain sailing. Massage can be quite strenuous, even before the sexual antics. After a few weeks I was doing 3-4 sessions a day and feeling it! My back ached and I was pretty knackered at the end of the week. And I suffered elsewhere too. Some clients were very demanding... in their own special ways!

Marissa seemed very forthright over the phone.

"I like a firm massage," she stated, almost barking at me down the line. "Especially my legs."

"Of course," I replied, although I was feeling a little wary already and we'd only been speaking for a couple of minutes.

"And what about my feet? You do massage the feet, don't you!" It wasn't a question.

"Absolutely, top to toe!" I chirped attempting to lighten the tone. I wasn't getting any happy vibes though.

"Good," she said sternly. "Seven o'clock Friday then. Don't be late. I don't tolerate lateness."

Well that felt a little ominous, I thought, but shrugged it off. I'm a pretty punctual guy so didn't give it a second thought.

Of course, Friday proved to be the tail end of a long and exhausting week. I finished at Maya's around 4 so plenty of time to freshen up ready for Marissa's evening appointment. I showered and towelled down, laying back on the bed, just for a moment...

...waking with a start, I realised I must have nodded off. I peered at the alarm groggily. 18.48. It took a second to register. Bollocks! I thought, as Marissa's stern instructions crashed into my head. I dragged myself up and threw on some clothes, pulling together my massage case and dashing for the car. It was a good 20-minute drive across town to her apartment but I floored it and rang the bell at 7:10.

It wasn't much of a welcome.

"You're late," she barked as she opened the door.

"Sorry, I, er..." I stuttered, but she cut me off.

"Upstairs. Apartment on the left," she ordered as I meekly shuffled past her and ascended. She was a plain woman, a little plump, and very fierce looking. Somewhere in the back of my mind I wondered why she was wearing a long leather coat around her apartment. Seemed an odd choice of leisure wear.

She closed the door firmly. It was a large, open-plan living room / diner with what looked like a couple of bedrooms and a bathroom off to one side. The curtains were closed, and the room was dimly lit with a couple of lamps. In other circumstances it would have been a very warm, inviting place. But with Marissa planted firmly in front of the door I was feeling extremely intimidated.

She stared at me for a moment, eyeing me up and down. "Strip," she said simply.

I looked at her, but it was clear that objections wouldn't be tolerated, so I undressed down to my boxers. I looked up enquiringly, but her stare made it very clear that when she said 'strip' she meant the whole shebang. I dropped my underpants to the floor. Surprisingly, I realised my pecker had stirred under her stern gaze.

I caught the faintest hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth as she took in the view. "Now kneel," she said, a little softer this time. It occurred to me that this wasn't going to be any kind of ordinary massage!

Marissa finally relaxed a little once I was down. "That's much better," she said. "I do prefer my men naked on their knees."

She untied the belt around her coat and it fell open. Beneath it she wore a tight black and red lace basque, sheer stockings and bright red stilettos. Even a little overweight, she looked incredible, and my cock shot up. She dropped the coat and stepped forward.

"Start with my feet," she instructed and I looked down her legs to her toes. There was a small footrest to one side of the sofa. She raised one leg and placed her foot on it. It was clearly my cue to get started so I shuffled over and removed the shoe, cupping the heel in one hand gently and kneading the upper foot with the other.

"You can kiss them," she purred. I caressed her toes and she took a deep, satisfying breath. We then repeated the process with her other leg. "Good boy," she murmured and I could see that she was finally beginning to relax.

Pulling her leg away she stood in front of me looking down. I felt a little pathetic and helpless but my cock was rock hard so I guessed some parts of me were enjoying the domination.

"I'm ready for my massage now," she purred. "But there is the matter of your punishment."

I did a sort of mental double-take. Sorry? Did she just say...

"I warned you not to be late. I won't be fully relaxed until you pay for your tardiness."

I was lost for words. She bent forward, and whispered in my ear. "Bend over the footrest and don't move." A little shiver of fear ran through my body.

"I promise you it won't happen again," I squeaked meekly.

"No. It won't. Bend!" She barked, walking across to one of the side rooms.

I had no idea what was about to happen but I suspected she intended to spank me. I briefly thought about grabbing my clothes and making a dash for the door, but my johnson was still rock hard and a small part of me was slightly thrilled by the idea. Marissa wasn't what I would call "classically attractive" but she made up for it with sheer sass. She knew exactly what she wanted and wasn't afraid to insist on it. My horny loins got the better of me and I bent forward over the stool and waited.

My bare backside was facing the side room so I couldn't see her as she emerged and strolled across the room. But I certainly felt her.

Thwack!

Fuck, that hurt! It must have been a cane or stick or something like that. I grunted an "ow!"

"Don't you mean 'sorry'?" She said quietly. She wacked me again.

"Sorry!" I cried out quickly.

"Try 'sorry, mistress', she demanded and hit me a third time.

"Fuck! I mean... Sorry! Mistress!" I cried.

"And what will you not do, ever again?"

"Be late! I won't be late again! Mistress!" I thought she was going to thrash me again, but it didn't come.

"Good," she said, stepping back. "I'm glad we've cleared that up."

My arse stung but I didn't dare complain, or even make a sound. I just knelt over the stool awaiting further instructions.

Marissa seemed to have relaxed again and dragged me on to my feet.

"Let's go into the bedroom. You can undress me and then I want a full body massage with those magic hands I've heard all about. If you please me I might let you kiss my feet again."

She strutted towards the side room as I rubbed my sore bum. Oh well, I thought. It's all money in the bank.

"Yes Mistress," I mumbled, following her into the room.

In my business, discretion is absolute. I had come to know many secrets about 'my ladies' as I called the numerous clients I was visiting each week for their 'relaxation massages'. And of course, most of them were married or in long term relationships so had every reason to keep our regular trysts quiet. But it was becoming clear that women confide in each other surprisingly often. Unlike men, who have a tendency to boast about sexual conquests (often with considerable embellishment), women seem to me to find a need to share their secrets with one or two trusted friends, perhaps to offload some of the guilt? I'm no psychologist so who knows for sure. But one thing was certain, word was spreading around the town about my special skills and services.

Recommendations are great for business, but not so good when you're basically fucking married women! I had niggling worries about what might happen if one or more husbands were to get wind of my wicked activities with their other halves. It wasn't long before I found out!

I met Heather Warrington in the most mundane of circumstances: queuing at a supermarket checkout. We'd accidently bumped trolleys and I quickly apologised for my clumsiness.

"No problem, love," she said, glancing into my trolley. She grinned and I realised that she must have spotted the large pack of condoms and bottles of lube. I'd also bought some wine that day.

"Looks like it's going to be a hell of a party," she grinned. I blushed and laughed guiltily.

"Er, yeh. Sort of," I blurted. "Kind of work related." With hindsight it was probably a dumb thing to say. She gazed at me enquiringly.

"Work related? I can't imagine..." she started but then paused, looking me up and down.

Dammit! This is fucking awkward, I thought. She must imagine I'm some kind of escort or something. Now technically that's true, but I wasn't leaving it at that. I leaned closer and whispered.

"Actually, I'm a massage therapist. The lube is for massage."

"And the johnnys?" she whispered back. "Ultra thin 24 pack?"

I blushed again, but couldn't think of anything remotely plausible to say.

She was grinning ear to ear, obviously enjoying my discomfort as we edged closer to the checkout.

"I'm Heather," she said, pausing for effect and leaning even closer. "I could do with some therapy like that."

Bingo! I thought. Naughty little minx. At least she wasn't going to start berating me for my disreputable career choice.

I gave her the once over and noticed she was wearing an ankle bracelet. It was monogrammed HW which I supposed were her initials. I also spotted her wedding ring and she must have noticed because she slid her hand under a large bag of pasta. I smiled at her knowingly and we moved forward in the queue in silence.

She had obviously been contemplating the situation because a few minutes later she turned back to me.

"I've been having some real problems with my neck. It's very knotted and sore. Any advice?"

It wasn't exactly a come-on, but it certainly seemed she was sounding me out. This might be fun, I thought. Let's try the 'magic hands trick'.

"Would you like me to have a feel?" I murmured. "Of your neck, I mean."

She grinned and giggled, turning away and pulling the arms of her woollen top down slightly to expose more of the neckline.

"Yes please," she said simply and waited. I moved up closer and put both hands on her shoulders, kneading her neck gently. At first she just purred slightly but then the magic kicked in and I could feel her beginning to melt. I could feel her body stiffen slightly and she arched her back.

"Oh," she purred. "That's very good!" My guess was that little sparks of sexual energy were making their way down to her loins. She squirmed a little as I squeezed her shoulders and I ran my fingers along her neckline. She gasped and turned suddenly, forcing my hands to drop. She stared at me, slightly flushed.

"I think I've heard about you," she said simply. "Do you know Vanessa Martin?"

I could have replied "Yes, I know Vanessa. In fact I had three fingers in her pussy yesterday morning!" but instead I just nodded.

We'd reach the front of the line, and she was unloading her shopping. My little shoulder rub had obviously given her some food for thought because nothing more was said until she was paying and preparing to leave. She turned to me and it sounded like she'd made some kind of decision.

"I don't suppose you have a card do you?" I simply grinned and plucked my business card out my pocket.

"Rick," I said matter-of-factly as I unloaded my condoms onto the conveyor. "Give me a call."

She called a couple of hours later and we booked a time the next afternoon at her place. I rolled up outside a fairly plain semi-detached cottage. She opened the door and ushered me in. I sensed that she looked a little uncomfortable. We walked through into the living room and I froze. A man stood in front of the fireplace, about my height but much older, fatter and with greying hair. He turned.

"Hello, Rick," he boomed. "So you're here to mess around with my wife are you?"

Fuck! I thought. Something must have gone horribly wrong. I trembled slightly as the adrenaline flooded my legs.

"No! I, um..." I stuttered, looking at Heather for help. I had no idea what she'd been forced to reveal.

"It's just a massage," I managed to blurt out. The man took a step closer, looking me up and down.

"You're not much of looker," he started. "But I suppose if you're good in the sack, That's what Heather wants. Well, here's the thing, mate. I like to watch."

There was a pregnant pause as I processed his last words.

"Is that Ok?" He finished.

My brain tumbled through a series of emotions. The fear disappeared, followed by confusion, revulsion and then a grudging realisation that the situation wasn't as bad as I thought. Heather took my arm and moved close.

"He won't be any trouble," She murmured. "He'll just sit in the corner."

I was still slightly dumbstruck and she must have sensed it.

"I thought you noticed my anklet yesterday," she said looking down at her feet. "HW? Hot Wife?"

Yes, yes, I know. Every swinger knows this. All I can say was that I must have had a very innocent upbringing! As it finally dawned on me what was happening I sighed in relief. We all laughed awkwardly.

A short while later, Heather was stretched out on the bed upstairs. Rob had introduced himself properly and was sitting quietly in the corner. It all felt a little odd, but I tried to put him out my mind and get on with the job in hand.

Heather melted as I stroked and kneaded her back and sides. She was obviously aroused, breathing deeply and sighing every few seconds. I worked on her arms and hands and then moved down to her legs which she parted slightly as I worked on her feet, calves and thighs.

"You can go a little further," she cooed. "That's OK isn't it, love?" She said to Rob.

I turned briefly and noticed that Rob had unzipped and had was gently tugging on his cock. It didn't seem to be erect and, quite frankly, I didn't want to see it, so I turned back quickly.

"Yea. Go on Rick. Finger her pussy," he grunted. Once again, it was weird, but what the hell I thought. I've always been good at following instructions!

I worked my hands into Heather's buttocks and slid one between her cheeks, seeking out her vulva. She moaned loudly as my fingers stroked her labia. She was very wet, so my fingers slipped easily into the folds of her pussy and I began stroking her clit.

She was still face down, moaning, with my hand pushing into her crotch.

"What about her tits?" said Rob from the corner.

Heather rolled over and I stood behind her head and put my hands on her voluminous boobs. She moaned again and her head dropped back over the end of the bed. She reached for my crotch, fumbling with the zip and fishing out my engorged penis.

"Decent cock, mate," said Rob, which was kind of nice. First time I'd received a compliment like that from a bloke!

"Face fuck the bitch," he continued. The weirdness of being directed by a woman's husband was starting to recede. Heather guided my pole into between her lips, leaning further back so she could get the shaft into her mouth. She started sucking, cupping my balls with one hand and holding my thigh with the other. She was actually pulling me into her throat. I continued to massage her tits and I steadily pumped her mouth.

"Don't forget her cunt," said Rob.

I leaned forward and reached for her pussy, cupping her vulva with the palm and slipped two fingers into her vagina. She shuddered underneath me.

"That's it," said Rob. "Give it to her hard. Down the hatch eh?" To be honest, the commentary from across the room was becoming a tad annoying, but Heather seemed to be enjoying herself so I upped the pace and started pumping. My cock slid in and out of her sloppy mouth and I fingered her pussy in time with each thrust into the back of her throat. She shuddered as she came, and moaned loudly. Her moans were cut short as I thrust into her mouth and blasted my cum into her throat. With each pulse I could feel her gagging slightly. I pulled out and shot a spurt of jizz across her face and throat. She took a lungful of air then squealed in delight.

"Fucking hell!" said Rob and I saw a dribble of cum in his hand, still wrapped around his limp dick.

Chapter 8

***

It's fair to say that my relationship with Laura had suffered a little with the pressure of my new business. Not that I didn't love her dearly, of course, it was just that, as you can imagine, I was pretty knackered at the end of day. Massage is strenuous work and on some days I'd also had several orgasms and plenty of randy play. So it wasn't that I wasn't willing to have sex with Laura - it was simply that I didn't need to. That sounds a little selfish but it's just how my body works. Consequently she was getting increasingly annoyed at my lack of, shall we say, 'enthusiasm' for her sexual needs.

I arrived home one Friday afternoon to find her perched on the sofa, looking sullen.

"Hello sweetheart," I chirped. "Haven't seen you for a bit."

"We need to talk," she said firmly. Words that send a spasm of dread through any man's soul.

My heart sank a little. Oh dear, I thought. I walked over and sat next to her, bracing myself for the worst, and waited for her to speak.

"Look, I know you're working hard," she started. "And yes, I know it was my idea. But I feel it's just getting a bit out of hand."

"I'm making really good money," I said, trying to think of other positives, but failing to come up with any. There was a momentary pause.

"Is that all you've got?" She said. I didn't want to admit it, but it really was. Lots of other, er, 'benefits' for me. But nothing she would appreciate.

"I'm sorry if I've been ignoring you," I mumbled, trying to sound as contrite as possible. "It's pretty hard work giving massages all day. How about we head out for a nice meal tonight?" I was desperately trying to deflect. She ignored the question and looked me straight in the eye.

"How many women have you fucked this week? Be honest with me."

There was a pregnant pause, although not because I planned to fib, but simply because I needed a few seconds to tot them up in my head. I'd got as far as Thursday morning when she continued.

"See what I mean! You don't even know!"

"It's only..." I stuttered, without really knowing how I was going to finish the sentence. Thinking better of it, I changed tack. "What can I do to make things better between us?" I continued meekly. I was trying my sad eyes, hoping it wasn't too obvious, and Laura softened a little. She sighed.

"You could start by doing me a little favour. I need you to come and stay at my place for a few days."

I'd been over to Laura's apartment on and off, although never for more than a night. But it seemed a reasonable request and I nodded enthusiastically. No problemo, I mused.

"You see..." she continued, pausing and looking increasingly guilty. "My mother's coming to stay. She thinks I have a boyfriend... a proper boyfriend... who I live with."

I stared at her for a second taking in her confession, then laughed. Now who was telling little white lies, I thought.

"Does she know what your 'boyfriend' does for a living?" I said, grinning.

"Graphic Designer."

I laughed again. I had resigned from the company over a month ago to focus on the increasingly lucrative massage practice.

"Sounds like someone's been telling a few porkies," I chortled. Laura hung her head, shamefaced. I decided to put her out of her misery and put my arms around her.

"No worries," I murmured reassuringly. "Happy to stay at yours. Happy to be your boyfriend, which is kind of true anyway. And I'm sure I can talk all about design work over the dinner table."

I slid my hands under her jumper and kissed her. She shivered.

"How about a nice relaxing massage," I whispered as she melted into my arms.

***

Laura's apartment is in a nice part of town. Two bedrooms, a small galley kitchen and reasonable open plan lounge/diner. Not exactly spacious but bearable for a few days. I decided to leave all my massage equipment at my place and simply pick it up each morning as required. So I just transferred a suitcase of clothes and a few toiletries and, hey presto, one live-in boyfriend!

Annie arrived on Saturday afternoon. For a lady in her mid-fifties she was strikingly attractive. Slim, well dressed and manicured. She had bright blue eyes and wisps of grey in her blonde hair. Mature but rather sexy with it, I thought. I kept these thoughts to myself, of course, under strict instructions to behave.

We chatted over dinner, getting to know each other. I was subjected to the usual round of questions. What did I do? Prospects and plans for the future? etc, etc. Not exactly "what are your intentions with my daughter!" but close enough. It was far less daunting than I had imagined and it turned out Annie was quite fun to be around. She was visiting old friends over a couple of days so apologised that she might be in and out. Laura just gave her a key and told her not to worry.

Sunday came and went and then Laura headed off to work early Monday morning. My first appointment wasn't until 10 so I pottered around for a bit, checking messages and social media. Annie wandered out of her room around 9.

"Not at work?" she questioned. I hesitated, getting our story straight in my head.

"Late start on Mondays," I said smoothly. "We work flexi hours."

"Oh that must be nice," she chirped. "A lie-in." She was fumbling with her dress. "Would you mind zipping me up, Rick? I have a rather nice lunch date with some old school friends."

"Sure, no problem," I chirped. Reaching up I placed a hand on her bare shoulder and slid the zip down with my other hand. Annie shivered.

"Oh my," she murmured, squirming slightly. "What nice warm hands you have." Oops, I thought, quickly removing my hand from her bare skin, mumbling an apology.

She turned and gazed at me. "No need to apologize," she purred. "I can see that Laura has good taste in men." And with that she winked, grabbed her bag and headed out. I gave myself a sharp rebuke: 'Don't touch Annie again!' and then put the uncomfortable moment out my head.

I was back at the apartment around six. No sign of Laura, but Annie was lounging on the sofa in a bathrobe. Her hair was in a towel.

"Nice lunch?" I enquired, grabbing a beer from the fridge.

"Very," she replied with a glint. "Do you know Vanessa Martin?"

I froze, just a little too suddenly. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I panicked. She must have said something, but what? And how much!

"Er, possibly," I said, trying to remain calm and nonchalant. "Maybe through work."

Annie looked me straight in the eye. "Through work?" She said firmly, raising her eyebrows.

I was desperately trying to work out how to get out of this apparently disastrous situation, when the door latch clicked and Laura waltzed in. "Hi Mum," she chirped and then sidled over to me and pecked me on the cheek. "Hi, baby."

Annie was still giving me her full attention. The evil eye perhaps. I gulped. Laura didn't seem to notice anything amiss, dropping her bag and wandering into the kitchen.

"Did you have a good day, love?" said Annie suddenly and they began chatting about company life, shopping and fashion choices. I sat in the corner fretting the whole evening.

***

On Tuesday morning, I crept out early, desperate to avoid contact with Annie. I had a busy day booked anyway, so picked up my stuff and headed out for a full-on day. I had intended to call Vanessa, but didn't get a moment between appointments. But I sent Laura a quick text to say I would be late home.

I rolled up at around 9, hopeful that it was safe to creep in quietly. But as I walked in, Annie was back on the sofa. Same towelling robe. She sat silently as I fumbled with my keys and bag.

"Oh, hi. Laura home?" I said hopefully.

"You've just missed her," she purred. "Gone to the gym." Dammit yes, of course. I knew that. Totally forgot Tuesday was Zumba night. I stood shuffling my feet for a moment, contemplating excuses for going back out. Annie had other ideas.

"Why don't you sit down and let's talk," she said plainly. Fucking hell, Laura last week and now her Mum. What's with the talking thing!

I dropped into a chair and braced myself for the worst.

"I know," she said simply. "Everything."

I suspected that she probably didn't. But a chat with Vanessa was bad enough.

"Can I explain?" I started.

"Nope," she replied. "You can give me what you've been giving the others?"

Oh shit! I thought. This isn't good. I'm being blackmailed by a cougar. And what does she mean: the others?

"Hard to believe some of the things I've heard. Maya? Vanessa? Jenny? Old school reunion lunch yesterday, you see."

"Oh," I laughed guiltily. "Small world, eh?" Yep, I thought, she knows everything.

"Maybe I need to have a chat with my daughter?" she mused and I swallowed hard. I was about to explain that Laura was fully aware of my sordid business activities when Annie stood up and let her bathrobe fall open. She was naked underneath. I was struck by how firm her breasts were, topped with quite delightfully pert nipples. My horn got the better of me and I stared at Annie's body silently. It's possible that I may have started drooling. The bathrobe dropped away. Her crotch was lightly trimmed. A little furry mound of possibilities.

"Put your hands on me again," she purred.

This was pretty bad. I mean, my girlfriend's mother! I hesitated, but she stepped forward, kneeled in front of me, took my hands and placed them on her boobs. She shivered again and the sexual electricity surged into her body. I realised my cock was rock hard in my jeans. Fuck it! I thought. You only live once.

I reached around her body and stroked her back. We kissed delicately, and then more passionately as she became fully aroused.

"I Haven't had cock for months," she whispered.

She pulled off my jeans, boxers and socks while I stripped off my t-shirt. Then she stood up and straddled me, guiding her tits towards my face. Nothing needed to be said as I licked and sucked her nipples, stroking and squeezing her buttocks as she settled into my lap. She rubbed her pussy against my shaft a few times and then reached down and guided me into her hole. It was tight, but warm and inviting. We both shuddered and gasped as the head of my cock pushed through her vulva and into her vagina.

And then she rode me like a fucking rodeo rider. It was incredible! Annie proved to be the original cowgirl, rocking in the saddle, hands on my shoulders and bobbing up and down on my shaft. Fucking hell! I mused. And I thought the daughter was good! I basically lay back in the chair and left Annie in charge. And boy, she knew what she wanted. All she needed was a couple of stirrups and some reins.

I was thrusting upwards as she rode me. She had one hand between her legs, rubbing her clit vigorously as she moaned.

"Play with my nipples," she whispered breathlessly. I tweaked them and fondled her teats between my fingers.

"Harder," she said. "Pinch them."

I duly obliged and within seconds she shuddered, forced herself down on my cock and screamed "Yeesss!"

I simultaneously exploded inside her, emptying my balls into her wanton cunt, which squeezed out every drop. I lay back and rammed into her a few times, enjoying that wonderful moment when every thrust is like a mini orgasm. Her vagina pulsed and sucked around my cock. Truly breath-taking.

It took several minutes for the pair of us to come down. She relaxed her body on to mine, dripping perspiration onto my face and neck. We were both glistening with sweat. And then she rolled off next to me, my flaccid and totally spent penis popping out with a squelch. We lay for a minute, bodies entangled, breathing deeply.

"Wow!" I whispered.

"Indeed," she said breathlessly. "Like I said, I can see my daughter has good taste in men."

Chapter 9

***

It was messy.

And painful.

Laura dumped me about a week after Annie's visit. I guess they talked which, in fairness, is no surprise.

"I'm sorry, Rick, but I just can't do this any more. With all the women you're seeing and then my mother!"

I tried talking her round but apart from grovelling regrets I didn't have much to say. I contemplated offering to give up the whole massage business, but there was still the matter of having shagged her Mom. There were a few tears at both ends of the phone. Like I said: messy and painful.

I cancelled some appointments and moped for a few days. I'd hurt someone I cared for and I felt bad. I wanted to make it right somehow but knew that wasn't possible. I tried to let her go, but it was agonisingly difficult.

After a few days messages and texts were building up. When you work for yourself, you can never truly get away from the business, and I had clients. My ladies wanted my attention.

I booked an appointment with Marissa. "The massage is on me," I said. "But I'd like to be punished afterwards." She paused at the other end of the phone. She didn't know the details but must have sensed the need. "You will be," she said eventually and firmly. I was sore for several days but it was kind of cathartic.

Vanessa called early on Monday.

"I am so sorry," she said and she did sound quite upset. "I just heard. I honestly didn't know you were in a relationship with Annie Hart's daughter."

"S'ok," I mumbled. "Something like that was bound to happen eventually."

"It was just silly girls talk over lunch. I am really, really sorry."

She kept apologizing so I just reassured her that everything was fine.

"Look, can I pop over? Bring a bottle of wine or something. Make it up to you," she pleaded. "Maybe tonight?"

"Sure," I replied. I wasn't really in the mood for merriment but it seemed a bit rude to say no, since she was being so contrite. She knocked about eight and I led her into the living room. I opened the wine and poured. We chatted for a little while, which was nice and then she grinned.

"How about we set up the massage couch? But this time, I'm giving you the massage. My treat. It seems like you need some pampering for a change." She smiled with big watery eyes. I could hardly refuse.

She put on some soft jazz while I striped down and lay on the couch. She went to work on my shoulders. I guess I must have been pretty tense because she soon found some knots and eased her thumbs into them. It was divine. She worked across my back and buttocks, then arms. I rolled over so she could work on my feet and legs. I semi-dozed as she worked, fully enjoying the experience. Totally relaxed.

"You've done this before, haven't you?" I cooed.

"I trained as a massage therapist before opening my gym. When that took off, I started the healthcare business. I always wanted to help people heal."

I was drifting in and out of consciousness, enjoying the music, when I realised there was something warm around my penis. Opening my eyes I saw the top of Vanessa's head over my crotch, her hair spread out across my legs and stomach. She was kneeling between my legs, hands stroking my thighs as she sucked my hardening dick.

"That's nice," I murmured watching her head bob up and down. Vanessa kept sucking, licking my shaft and flicking her tongue over my bell end. She cupped my balls with one hand and gave them a gentle squeeze. What a lovely way to 'make it up to you' I thought, smiling to myself. Well she did say "my treat" so I put my hands behind my head and closed my eyes again.

She worked on my cock and balls for a while. I was thoroughly enjoying it but was in no rush so I just let her do her thing. Occasionally she looked up enquiringly but I reassured her. "Keep going," I murmured. "It's lovely." She smiled and popped my boner back in her warm, wet mouth.

She reached over and grabbed the massage oil. She squeezed a little into her hand and let it drizzle over my cock. She palmed the end of my penis which sent little sparks through my loins. My cock twitched and she giggled. Then she squeezed another big handful of oil and rubbed her hands together. Sliding her hands over my cock, she started pumping up and down the shaft, twisting her hands as she did it.

"Bloody Hell!" I gasped. "Is this part of your healthcare work?"

"You'd be surprised what you can find on YouTube," she giggled, maintaining a steady rhythm. I gazed at her, kneeling between my legs, her boobs jiggling as she worked on my cock. It occurred to me that, now I'm single again...? But then quickly put the thought out of my head. Vanessa had always treated our sessions together in a very business-like fashion. Besides, she was way out of my league. Just a rebound fantasy.

She was doing a first-rate job on my cock, alternating between her hands and mouth, and I was getting very close.

"Don't stop," I grunted, thrusting upwards gently.

She stopped.

I opened my eyes. "Hey! That was really nice!"

She hopped off the couch, grinning, stepped around and leaned in to kiss me. "Patience," she whispered. "We'll get there."

My impending orgasm was subsiding, which was momentarily annoying, but she lowered her head and started licking and nibbling my nipples. My cock sprang to life again. I reached over to give it a little tug, but she batted my hand away.

"Wait!" She said firmly. "All in good time."

She wrapped a hand around my bollocks and gently stroked them without touching my shaft, nibbling my nipples and occasionally scraping them with my teeth, which sent shudders straight down to my loins.

"You're welcome to get naked and hop on?" I suggested helpfully.

"Not today, big boy," she muttered. "This one is all about you."

I wasn't going to complain so relaxed back on the couch, enjoying her kisses and hoping she would get back to my cock soon!

Her fingernails slid up my shaft and my cock twitched. She repeated it several times, and I groaned with each teasing stroke. Then she wrapped her hand around the base and squeezed it firmly, gently pumping.

"Fucking hell!" I moaned. She was licking my nips and gently pumping the base of my rock-solid penis. I was twitching and writhing on the couch, desperate for her to move her hand higher. Her hand clasped and unclasp around me and she wanked the full shaft a couple of times. Oh yes, I thought, this is it!

And then she let go again and stood up.

"Oh babes!" I cried and she laughed. My cock was now throbbing for attention and I looked down at it as it continued to twitch.

"No!" She said, spotting the fact that I was contemplating grabbing it myself. "Arms to the sides!"

I let my arms drop but it was torture. I desperately wanted to cum.

Vanessa strolled around to my feet again, spreading my legs and taking up position over my crotch again. She bent forward and ran her tongue the full length of my shaft. I gasped and groaned loudly as her lovely, wet, warm, ravenous mouth slid over the head and my cock disappeared into her mouth again. I raise myself up on my elbows and watched as her head bobbed up and down. She pulled her hair over her ears so that I could see more clearly and gazed up at me wantonly. It is, I think, the most beautiful sight in the world!

She let it slip out and smiled. "You can cum now," she murmured and pushed her mouth back down, sucking harder and harder with each nod of her head. I started thrusting, pumping her mouth, feeling my cock bump the back of her mouth and the opening of her throat. Fucking awesome! She gagged a couple of times but I was beyond caring and thrust harder. I'm gonna fill your tummy with seed, I thought as I felt the semen rising. As I reached the point of no return, she let my cock slip out of her mouth and grabbed it with both hands. They were still sticky and greasy from the oil and she wanked me hard. I exploded with a roar and my cum spurted up through her fingers, a massive stream of semen that shot up and hit the ceiling. She continued to wank me, gripping hard and I spurted again, then again. Gobs of cum sprayed across her face and hair, dripping down onto my stomach. I was groaning loudly and gasping with each spasm.

I tried to calm down, unable to even speak for a couple of minutes. My balls actually ached slightly, they were so empty. And even though she kept her hands still, my boner was still rock hard and twitching. She gradually released the pressure and let go and I collapsed back on the couch.

"Oh my God" I grunted. "Fucking unbelievable!"

"I haven't finished yet," she whispered, grinning. She bent forward again and licked the pools of cum off my legs and tummy, swallowing each time. Then she licked my cock clean and gave the head a little final peck. She disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a hot flannel and gently washed my crotch, tummy and chest.

"I'm hoping that counts as an acceptable atonement," she cooed as she leaned in and kissed me passionately.

Chapter 10

***

Humans are an extraordinary species in a myriad of ways, but one thing that stands out is our incredibly diverse range of attitudes, desires and preferences when it comes to sex. I'm not saying that monkeys, or camels or sparrows don't have a bit of fun in the sack (although it seems unlikely to me), it's just that sex for 99% of the animal world is, well, kind of 'vanilla', if you know what I mean. For most creatures there's an interminable amount of flirting and foreplay, following by a quick 'wham, bam, thank you m'am'. In some cases that's the end of it, for the rest of their lives! And in a worst-case scenario the female then eats her mate, which always struck me as rather drastic, especially for him. I'm all in favour of getting my rocks off but if I knew it was a literal 'once-in-a-lifetime' experience I'd probably be a bit more selective!

As it was, I was now entertaining about 20 different women over the course of an average month. Some weekly, some monthly and the occasional ad-hoc appointment (NB: this a technical term for "when my husband is out of town"!) What started as an intriguing, fun and care-free way of making a bit of extra cash had become a steady career.

Most of my ladies were quite lovely, and my 'magic hands' made it very easy to satisfy them. In some cases, I just gave them a straight Swedish Massage. Others liked me to use my fingers and hands to bring them to a satisfying happy ending. There was plenty of oral action and shagging of course, but it didn't bother me if they didn't want full-on sex. My attitude has always been 'whatever floats your boat.' I'm pretty easy-going.

But there were just a small number of clients whose demands were more complex. Amanda Clay was one of those.

I'd been seeing Mandy right from the start. She was married but her husband was something in sales so travelled extensively. He clearly made a small fortune. The house was a large detached Georgian affair set in several acres. Mandy herself was a lady of leisure or perhaps 'lady of pleasure' might have been more appropriate. I'd crossed paths with her gardener a couple of times, a mid-twenties, ripped and rather dashing young man. He'd be leaving just as arrived and he'd grin and nod as we passed on the drive. Given Mandy's flushed state when I entered the house, It seemed very unlikely that my massage was the first bit of 'personal treatment' she'd had that day!

For the first couple of weeks, I just gave her a Swedish massage. She squirmed and cooed under my hands like most women do and she clearly enjoyed it. But with hindsight she must have been testing the waters a bit. We chatted while I worked and she would describe her lifestyle. They were fortunate enough to have quite a few 'helpers' around the house, as she called them. There was the gardener of course, plus a cleaner, personal trainer, mobile hairdresser and chef. And it sounded like they were all youngish, and male. I guess I was being added to her cohort of personal servants (aka: harem perhaps? LOL)

"Your massages are wonderful," she said around the third or fourth week. "I've never experienced anything like it."

"Thank you," I replied meekly. "It's a pleasure to do it."

"Oh, that's certainly true!" she replied, winking. I blushed a little. Then she hesitated. "And do you offer anything else?"

I knew exactly where she was going, of course, but decided to tease her a little.

"Not sure what you mean?" I said, pausing for effect. "My gardening skills are pretty shite."

She stared at me, momentarily confused. I grinned and leaned a little closer, whispering. "Unless it's your lady garden that needs cultivating."

Her eyes sparkled. "I think we're going to get on just fine," she laughed.

I guess this was my first true experience of what you'd define as nymphomania. She was ravenous. Once the ice had been broken, every massage would end with a vigorous shag, often in several positions. She especially liked it doggy-style and would bend over the end of the massage couch, her pert little derriere ripe and inviting. She'd turn her head towards me and give me her big, watery come-on eyes. "Do whatever you want," she'd moan. So naturally I did, grabbing her hips and ploughing her cunt until I shot my load into her pussy or over her arse cheeks.

Occasionally she'd usher me out of the house after our session. "Need to get ready for my personal trainer," she"d say breathlessly. "He's due any minute." I doubted very much that he was booked for a short cardio session and some stretching exercises, although I guess that depends on which parts of her deliciously sexy body were being stretched. It amused me that the PT would probably be pounding a hole that I'd already stretched and filled 20 minutes ago. But then it occurred to me that maybe I'd also had sloppy seconds from one of her other 'helpers' earlier in the day. She's fucking insatiable, I thought with a wry smile.

We were mid-massage one afternoon, chatting as usual.

"Rick," she started hesitantly after a short pause. "I wonder if you'd like to explore a little?"

I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about, although it seemed unlikely that she meant some form of outbound camping trip. She must have sensed my confusion.

"I mean sexually," she purred. "Try some new things."

"Sure," I chirped. "Always up for new things!" I was massaging her buttocks, one hand stroking around and down her crack into her crotch, dragging my fingers firmly across her labia. She shivered each time I touched her vulva.

"You can play with my anus," she said, hesitantly. "If you like?"

I don't have many inhibitions in life, and I was fully aware from my teenage porn viewing habits that anal play was a thing. Mandy was already very wet so I moistened my thumb and rubbed her anus, circling it slowly. She moaned. I pushed it in gently. There was a little resistance and then it slid through her sphincter. She gasped.

"Oooh. That's nice," she cooed.

I thumb-fucked her for a couple of minutes, continuing to stroke her buttocks and thighs with my other hand.

"You can lick it if you want?" She said suddenly.

Well this was new territory, I thought. But you know me - "you only live once!" I let my thumb slip out and spread her cheeks, then ran my tongue up the full length of her crack. I was expecting some kind of musty smell, but all I got was the feint fragrance of lavender massage oil. I pushed my tongue into her hole and she groaned.

"Yes, that's it," she cooed. "Do that and stroke my pussy."

In what proved to be a somewhat awkward manoeuvre, I reached round with one hand and pushed my fingers between her labia to find her clit. She was sopping wet down there so my fingers slipped easily into her vagina. I continued to push my tongue in and out of her arse in time with my fingers pumping her twat. She was writhing and moaning with each stroke. Wow, I thought. Never realised how much pleasure this gives a woman!

After a couple of minutes she turned her head back towards me.

"Fuck me there," she said firmly. To be honest, my jaw was getting a bit cramped, so it was a bit of relief. I slid up her body and positioned my rigid cock in the crack between her cheeks. It took a few fumbling attempts to find the right spot but then I gently pushed my cock into her anus. She gasped as it stretched her sphincter and I stopped for a second to let her adjust. Then I slid into her arse.

Wow! If you've never tried it, I recommend you do. Mandy slowly relaxed as I started ploughing her poop chute. Gently at first and then with more force as she guided me.

"Deeper," she groaned and I pushed into her bowels. "Oh! Maybe not that deep!" We giggled as we explored the incredible sensations of my hard cock inside her tight virgin arsehole. I noticed that she'd slipped her hand under her body and was fingering her clit as I fucked her. As we both adjusted to new positions and sensations, the heat rose and I pumped her more vigorously.

"Yes!," she cried. "Keep going! Cum in my arse! Please!"

What a lady! I thought, and duly obliged her very polite request, squirting my jizz deep into her bowels. She shuddered, her anus clamped around my cock, and I wondered if I would ever be able to get it out again. But then she relaxed completely and I pulled out, stumbling off the massage couch on to the floor.

We lay there, puffing hard for a moment and then she laughed out loud.

"Fucking hell! That's was something else!" she squealed. I was still panting so stayed silent. What an extraordinary creature, I thought.

"I'd like to book a massage." Came the gruff voice at the other end of the line. It sounded suspiciously masculine.

"Can I take a name?" I replied. This always seemed the politest way to determine the gender of a caller without actually asking outright.

"Fiona."

"Er... is this for yourself?"

"What? No, of course not! My wife, Fiona. I'm Dave." Good, I thought, that has at least cleared up one question. Although it opened up several more.

"Sorry. Bad line," I mumbled. I checked exactly what they were looking for, price, dates and times. All the usual questions. It still felt a little odd. I mean, nothing wrong with a guy booking a massage for his wife. In fact, a beautiful, loving gesture, I would say. But often there's some ulterior motive, like wanting to watch, take photos, video etc. It's always good to find out if there are any additional requirements.

"That all sounds fine to me," I said, then paused, waiting. Hubby hesitated then spoke, a little quieter this time.

"Can you give her, urm, you know... a happy ending?" He said. Bingo! I thought, now we're getting somewhere. This is where I have to speak with absolute caution, both from a legal perspective as well as a moral one.

"All you're paying for is a full body relaxation massage," I stated firmly. "What Fiona does after that is entirely up to her." Essentially, I was saying: "I'm not a fucking prostitute, mate! But in my spare time..."

"I don't think she really knows what she wants. But I would love to see her..." He paused. I guess he realised that it was his turn to speak with care. "...you know? Have a good time," he finished.

Alarm bells rang in my head. Thankfully, this wasn't the first time I'd received a call like this. I sighed inwardly.

"Does she know you're making this booking?" I said plainly.

"Erm... not yet."

"Are you suggesting I seduce your wife?"

"Could you?" he replied meekly.

"That would be rape," I said plainly.

"Oh, no, she would have to consent," he stuttered, beginning to realise his error.

"Still rape," I said clearly. "I suppose you would want to hear all about it? Or see pictures? Maybe a hidden camera? All forms of rape. If you plan to seduce a woman by withholding information that might otherwise cause her not to give consent then it's rape. Even your own wife."

I guess he finally got the message. "Oh," he mumbled. He sounded genuinely dejected. A wild fantasy dashed in seconds.

"Look, I said, just talk to her. Loads of guys fantasise about their wives being pleasured by other men. And more often than not, their wives are fantasising about the exact same thing."

"Not sure I could do that," he mumbled. "She might not take kindly to that line of chat."

To be honest, I didn't hold out much hope for this loser, but I felt sorry for him a little.

"How about this. Just mention my massage service. Offer to pay for a session if she wants one. Leave it to her to decide if she does. And if she books, I'll let you know how it goes."

It was a bit of a fib. I had no intention of letting him know how it went, unless, of course, Fiona agreed to that. Privacy and consent are a bloody minefield!

I almost instantly forgot the whole conversation until about a week later. I was arranging a session with a new lady so, as usual, asked for her details.

"It's Fiona," she chirped. A bell rang in the depths of my brain.

"Oh, of course!" I said, instantly recognising the name.

"Sorry? Do we know each other?" She replied. Oops.

"Er, no. I play little games sometimes, trying to guess a caller's name. Looks like I got it right for once!" Totally lame but I was thinking on my feet. Extremely suspicious but she seemed to have bought it. I quickly deflected.

"So, was I recommended?" I enquired, innocently.

"Well funny you should ask," she said dropping to a whisper. "A friend of mine is one of your, um, regulars. Vanessa Martin? She spoke very, er, highly of you."

I was slightly confused by all this. What happened to hubby? But I couldn't exactly ask that question. Never mind. Her call, her choice.

I booked her in at my place which, since Laura's departure from my life, had become a sort of home therapy studio. She arrived a couple of days later and I welcomed her in.

Now I want to make it clear that I have no prejudices whatsoever. I love women of all shapes, sizes, colours, races and sexual orientation. I make no judgment at all. But when it comes to massage there are occasional, shall we say, 'logistical issues.'

Fiona was a big girl. And I mean very big! Pretty and piercing eyes, but a chubby face and sporting a massive jumper over the top of what I guessed might be size 30 jeans. She marched into the room and plonked her bag on the sofa.

"I'm looking forward to this," she said with a smile, looking me up and down. "Where do I strip?"

It's not the actual size that's the problem. It's the excessive layers of fat tissue that make things a little trickier. Massage should, when done correctly, involve soothing and softening the muscles, as well as draining the lymph system. Those are a lot more difficult to reach and work on when there's a three-inch barrier of blubber. Fiona wasn't the first larger lady I had worked on, but she was the biggest so far. I took a deep breath (internally) and got to work.

I started by massaging and teasing her skin all over. She shivered as I gently stroked her back, sides, arms and legs. I applied a little more force to her back, pushing the skin aside so that I could work the muscles of her shoulders. She started moaning. So I guess the fat tissue doesn't prevent the magic, I mused wryly.

As I worked on her arms and legs I asked her a few probing questions, eventually touching on the subject of a husband.

"He's a lovely fella," she said quietly. "But no imagination."

"In what way do you mean?" I replied.

"Oh, you know. In the bedroom department." I was beginning to sense a pattern. Total breakdown of communication, I thought. Such a shame in a marriage.

We were getting close to that part of the routine where things get a little more intimate. I suggest she roll on to her back and offered an extra towel for her upper half.

"Do I need that?" she said matter-of-factly. "Vanessa told me quite a lot about what you do for her."

It's funny how people find it so difficult to ask for sexual services!

"Would you like the same?" I said simply. She nodded enthusiastically. And then, in a moment of madness, I went totally against my normal rules of engagement.

"What would your husband say?" I said, instantly regretting it.

She froze and stared at me. "Is that anything to do with this," she said and I sensed a faint trace of annoyance.

"Not at all. Sorry. You are completely in charge," I back-tracked as quickly as I could.

"I don't need his permission to have fun!" She barked, rolling on to her back. Her massive tits flopped down her sides wobbling. I was momentarily impressed by the size of her areolas, those patches of skin around the nipples. Her nipples were equally large, sticking out like stalks.

She took my hands and placed them over her tits and sighed. "I don't think he'd care anyway."

I was tinged with a little sadness for them both as I started massaging her boobs and running my hands down her tummy towards her crotch. She moaned as I stroked her vulva, sliding my fingers into the folds of her labia. At first I struggled to find her clit, but it was there, buried inside her pussy. Once I found that the rest was easy enough and she was soon moaning and bucking under my magic hands.

I was sucking gently on her nips while I fingered her and she was moaning gently. I looked up and whispered.

"Would you like to play a game?" I teased. She grinned and nodded.

"It's an imagination game," I continued. "Just something I do sometimes. Start by closing your eyes." She closed her eyes willingly, waiting for instructions. I moved my head closer to hers so that I could whisper softly.

"Imagine you're at home, naked on the bed," I began and she smiled. I gently cupped her vulva.

"Your hands are tied and you're blindfolded." I stroked the outside of her labia and she moaned.

"There's someone in the room and you're completely at his mercy. Someone you know and trust. Someone close?" It was a long shot. Fiona frowned slightly but seemed to be going along with the fantasy."

"Brad Pitt?" She murmured.

"You naughty minx! I said someone you know and trust." I held my breath.

"David, I suppose," she sighed and I felt a moment of relief.

"Wonderful," I whispered. "David approaches the bed silently and places his warm hands on your thighs."

I began teasing her pussy as I spoke, squeezing, stroking and rubbing her labia as I described how David did the same to her in the fantasy. Fiona was breathing heavily. OK, here goes, I thought. Do or die!

"David whispers in your ear "I have a present for you my love" and you hear the bedroom door open." I flicked my fingers over her clit and she squealed with delight and arched her back.

"You feel a stranger touching your feet and legs. You're powerless to stop it. David is caressing your breasts and kissing you as the stranger moves up your body and you feel his hot breath on your chest and neck."

"Is it Brad?" She chirped breathlessly. For fuck's sake, why is it always him!

"Yes, if you wish," I cooed in her ear. "It doesn't matter. You can feel his strong arms and body pressing against you."

Fiona was panting hard and writhing. I could feel her wetness oozing out of her snatch. I slipped two fingers inside.

"You feel the stranger's hard cock as he pushes into you. David is sucking your tits while the mysterious, muscular stranger begins to fuck you."

Jesus, this is making ME horny, I thought! I really quite fancied climbing aboard and giving Fiona a good seeing to myself, but I knew I had to see this through.

"Oh god, yes," she cried as I pumped her vagina with my fingers. I flicked my tongue over her nipples and she arched and came hard.

I brought her down slowly, gently stroking her arms and chest as she relaxed and recovered.

She sat up and laughed. "You obviously don't know my husband!" She chuckled with a grin.

"Probably not," I replied, trying not to sound guilty. "But I know men and I bet if you told him that story he'd be up for it."

She stared at me for a moment, then smiled.

"And would you be the mysterious stranger?" She murmured sweetly. Wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but it seemed fitting. I smiled and nodded.

It took three days exactly for the phone to ring.

"Hey Rick, it's Dave. Dave and Fiona?"

"Hi there, how's it going?"

"I don't know what you said or what you did, mate, but you're a bloody genius! I'd like to book a massage. It's for Fiona, with her full agreement this time, but I'll be there too if that's OK?" I gave myself a little pat on the back. She'll be getting more than a fucking massage, I thought to myself.

"Does next Tuesday work for you?" I replied with a grin.

Chapter 12

***

It's rare indeed when I'm contacted by a young woman. And by that I mean anyone under the age of 30, which counts as a 'youngster' from where I'm standing. Younger people tend to lack confidence in themselves, are perhaps understandably more cautious and no doubt still cling to the dream (fantasy?) of finding romance, love and lifelong commitment. It's not often they appreciate the pleasures a professional massage can bring. Plus of course, they have a lot more choice when it comes to getting laid!

The rest of us are just happy to have a nice sexy sensual massage, in the hope that we might get a fondle or a quick shag.

So when Lisa got in touch to book a session I was mildly surprised. As you'd expect, it's part of my standard booking procedure to confirm any client is of legal age. It's usually a formality.

"19," she said.

I must have misheard. "Sorry, I missed that."

"I'm nineteen," she said again. "Is that a problem?"

Are you kidding me? I thought at first. I haven't had my hands on a teenager since I was, well, a teenager!

But I paused, reflecting for a moment. Even without any 'play' did I really want to get that intimate with a girl young enough to be my daughter?

"It's legal you know," she said with a hint of annoyance.

"Yes, of course," I blurted. "Sorry to have to ask, but would you be able to provide ID when I visit. It's just a procedure I have to follow."

The line went quiet for a moment and I was beginning to think this was some kind of wind-up.

"Sure," she said finally. "Can my boyfriend stay and watch?"

"Er..yes. No problem. It's just a massage you want, right?"

"Sure," she said. Talkative girl, I thought.

***

My suspicions were raised even higher when I rolled up outside a seedy hotel just out of town. I have no problems with hotel visits, although I feel a bit like that guy from American Gigolo as I try and sneak through the lobby. But in this case the concierge just waved me through. Probably the kind of joint that sees this sort of thing all the time.

Lisa opened the door in a loose fitting bathrobe. She was a pretty girl with light hair and Slavic features, possibly Eastern European, although I hadn't detected it in her voice. And, as you'd expect, she had smooth skin and clear, bright eyes, even though she looked a little sullen. Plain, I thought to myself, but pretty enough. I said "hi" as she showed me into the room.

It was a fairly ordinary hotel room: double bed, small wardrobe, bathroom off to one side. The television was on in the corner playing some banal gameshow. There was a small desk in the opposite corner and seated in the chair was an older man, also in a robe. He nodded.

"We can do it here," said Lisa, as she dropped her robe and clambered on to the bed naked. She lay back facing the ceiling.

I was feeling apprehensive as it was, but this felt wrong. The mysterious stranger in the corner was at least my age, possibly older. I don't usually judge, but he didn't strike me as 'boyfriend' material and Lisa wasn't exactly warm and loving towards him. I tried to shake it off. Just here to do a job, I reminded myself.

"Sorry to ask again, but do you mind if I just check your ID?" I asked firmly.

"Oh. Yea, sure," mumbled Lisa and rolled off the bed. She strode over to the stranger and opened what was obviously his black leather case. She passed me a European passport.

Lisa Radka, Bulgarian. I did a quick calculation from the birthdate. 19 years old. It looked genuine, although, as with most passports, the photo wasn't terribly flattering. I had no reason to be suspicious other than the fact this whole scenario felt wrong. Lisa put the passport back in the case and hopped back on the bed.

I looked at her, lying there naked, gazing at the ceiling. She was skinny which never makes for a very satisfying massage. Her breasts were small and her crotch shaved. She genuinely looked like a child and I knew at the moment I wasn't going to be able to do anything sensual or sexual with her. Alarm bells that had been tinkling in my mind for a few minutes started ringing out and the word "exploitation" crashed into my head like a hammer blow.

"Are you going to do her or what?" grunted the guy in the corner.

I looked at him. His hands were tucked into his robe. Another word came through: "pervert".

"Sorry, massage is a delicate business. So many rules!" I chirped, thinking fast. "We're always being told about consent and so on. This is what you want, isn't it Lisa?"

She looked over at me, expressionless.

"Of course it's what she wants," grumbled the guy. "She made the booking. Nice massage. Maybe a happy ending. Right Lisa?"

Lisa nodded. "Sure," she said quietly. I saw a flicker of fear.

I could have walked away. I probably should have walked away. But something about her gaze made me want to help her. I was 90% certain she was in trouble, but not 100%. I just needed time to think.

"Flip over on to your tummy," I said. "I always start with the back and shoulders." It seemed the safest place to start and would give me a few minutes.

She was tense, but as I worked on her she began to relax. I stayed well away from her bottom and thighs. The perv was clearly wanking under his robe and I felt revulsion. I worked around to her head and massaged her neck, dropping down to a crouch so that my mouth was close to her ear. The television wasn't loud but it was enough to cover a whisper.

"If you're in trouble squeeze my hand," I whispered. She didn't react. Working back up to her shoulders and down to her arms I kneaded her arm and wrist before taking her hand. She squeezed it gently as I massaged her palms and manipulated her fingers.

"Turn her over," said the perv with some irritation. "I want to see you massage her tits."

I tried to stop her, but she rolled over before I could move, and lay on her back. She took my hand again and squeezed it hard, moving it towards her chest, still staring at the ceiling.

I folded the duvet she was lying on up and over her body.

"What the fuck you doing?!"

I turned to him. "I'm not doing anything else. I don't believe this woman has given full consent to what you're suggesting."

I turned back to Lisa. "Why don't you come with me?" I said, with no idea what I was going to do with her once I got her out of that place. She started to move but the pervert stood up sharply.

"Stay there!" he shouted. "And you can fuck off!"

"I think That's Lisa's decis..." I started, but he grabbed his case and pulled out a knife. He pointed it in my direction.

"I said fuck off. She stays with me."

I stared at the knife. It was at least six inches long and looked fucking deadly. And now that he was on his feet, the pervert towered over me. I wondered briefly if I could take him down. I was tempted to have a go. But he twisted the blade menacingly. It was a huge risk. I could die here, I thought, and then what happens to Lisa?

I backed off, raising my hands. "OK. OK. I'm leaving."

As I threw my stuff into my bag and as I retreated to the door I caught one final glimpse of Lisa's face. Her eye's pleaded with me and I'm sure I saw the small beginning of a tear.

***

My hands were shaking as I reached the car and I sat for a moment trying to think. As I reached for the phone to dial 999, I spotted the pervert dragging Lisa out of the hotel. They were wrapped in overcoats. He bundled her into a large black Mercedes, throwing his case into the boot.

"Emergency, which service do you require? Fire, Police or Ambulance?" said the operator. I punched the speaker button and started the engine.

"Police please," I said, trying to stay calm, vision fixed on the black Mercedes which was pulling away. The Control Room Assistant came on the line and asked for my number and location, but I was already moving.

"I think a young woman has been kidnapped, possibly trafficked. I'm following the car she's in."

The assistant was sympathetic but explained that without a location she would have difficulty arranging a response. Did I have more details of the vehicle I was following? I told her most of the story. She said she was putting out a call for a response vehicle and that I should keep the phone on, stay away from the Mercedes and not break the rules of the road.

And then I was on my own, following the black car and wondering how the hell I ended up in this situation. You're not bloody James Bond, I thought! What the fuck are you going to do when they get to wherever they're going? And as we snaked into the town, I couldn't put the image of Lisa's face out of my mind.

After about 20 minutes, he pulled up outside a block of apartments and I carried on past, hoping he hadn't noticed me. I watched from the corner as the pervert pulled Lisa out of the car and pushed her into the block. Then the phone rang.

"Can you give us a location?" said the officer. I passed across the details, explaining the events of the evening.

"We appreciate all your help, but there's nothing else you can or should do," he said calmly. "We'll make enquiries at the property. I suggest you go home, sir. I'm sure a detective will be in touch in the next few days."

I was achingly disappointed. I wanted officers charging in there to rescue the poor girl and anyone else who might be trapped in the building. But in truth, I was powerless.

***

I didn't sleep well, but managed to drag myself to my appointments over the next few days. The weekend came and went. Vanessa seemed upset that I wasn't terribly enthusiastic at our Monday morning session. I explained the basics of what happened and she hugged me for a while. I met a new client the following day, just a quick one-off session, and spent an hour with Maya the day after that.

As I headed home on Wednesday evening, a report caught my ear on the afternoon news. Police had raided a property in town, arresting six men. It was believed that a number of young women, possibly trafficked, had been taken into Police care. I sighed with relief and slept like a baby that night.

It was the Thursday when a couple of officers knocked at 7AM.

"Oh, you're here," I chirped grinning. "I was wondering when you'd be needing a statement."

"Mr Rollins? Richard Rollins?" He looked rather serious.

"Yes, of course."

"Mr Rollins, I'm arresting you on suspicion of rape, molestation and operating an illegal brothel. You do not have to say anything. But, it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence."

I was, quite frankly, fucking scared.

I've always been a confident, easy going, fairly relaxed kind of guy. You know the sort: happy to have a laugh, not too picky, laissez-fayre. Nothing really ever shocked or phased me. Just an all-round nice bloke.

Now I was just berating myself for being such a twat. What was I bloody doing, for Christ's sake! Fucking all these women, most of whom were married. Sneaking in and out of people's homes. And worst of all -- inviting them into mine! According to the officer, That's technically "operating a brothel".

And if that wasn't bad enough, I'd been accused of rape! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Having dragged me down to the station, I was left for a couple of hours in a cell with nothing to do but fret over what the hell had gone wrong. I was especially worried about Lisa. I had no idea if she had been with the women rescued from the apartment, or if she was OK. Was this whole situation due to the pervert trying to get revenge? Surely Lisa would confirm what happened? If she's allowed to give evidence. But also, in the back of my head, there was a tiny, nagging doubt. Had I been set up? Was Lisa part of this? Surely not!

I couldn't eat anything they offered. I just shed a few tears and fretted.

Eventually, I was escorted to an interview room. There were several hours of grilling as they went through all my personals, what I'd been doing, the massage work. I'd already decided there was little point in lying so I told them as much as I could. They asked for names, but I refused. They told me this was very serious and that I should consider my position and future. Aside from the other charges, rape carries a maximum life imprisonment, they said. And even when you get out, you"ll be a registered sex offender for the rest of your life. I just hung my head in shame.

I asked repeatedly about Lisa. My questions about her were met initially with blank looks and then ignored. Eventually one of the offers asked what the hell I was talking about. I explained and they went off to investigate.

Later in the day I was informed that a warrant had been secured and my apartment was being searched. By this time, I didn't care about my stuff. I was a wreck. But it dawned on me that they would almost definitely find my "client notes". And with phone records it wouldn't be too difficult to track down Vanessa, Maya, Jenny etc. Probably all of them, I thought. Bollocks! It's all going to come out. Now I've ruined their lives as well!

I was left to stew for another night. I knew I'd missed appointments, so I suppose there were some angry ladies out there too. Least of my troubles, I sighed. And it's not like I'll be seeing any of them ever again.

The next morning I was taken back to the interview room.

"You witnessed and reported an abduction on the night of July 14th, is that correct?" said one of the officers. He was new to me, a little less acerbic than the previous day's cohort of detectives.

"Yes! Finally! I called it in and followed them." I went through the events of the evening, pleading that I had only massaged Lisa's back and neck as a way to distract the pervert and help her.

The detectives huddled just out of earshot. They examined a bundle of notes and huddled again. Then they turned back to me.

"Mr Rollins, I'm the officer handling that case. Firstly, I want to thank you for what you did. It was admirable. I can confirm that Lisa is safe and being looked after. You did the right thing." I sighed with relief. The best (and only) good news I'd had all week.

"But I'm afraid your situation has nothing to do with her, or the gang we arrested last week. You're being charged for inviting a Miss Amelia Brown into your home for the purpose of paid sexual intercourse, then molesting and raping her without consent. These alleged crimes took place on July 20th."

What the fuck! Who the hell is Amelia Brown? I thought, wracking my brain. It slowly came into focus and I shuddered. Not because I felt any guilt, but because I suddenly knew I'd been set up, conned and hung out to dry.

***

It was just a few days ago. A one-off session with what sounded like a lovely lady.

"Just call me Emmy. I would love one of your, you know, special massages," she had purred down the phone. Sultry voiced. Very sexy, I mused. This might be nice.

"No problem," I replied and we set it up at my place that evening. I'd been fretting over Lisa for days so I needed distractions and she'd phoned out of the blue. It seemed like something to take my mind off my worries. And she was, indeed, a very sexy lady. Deep brown eyes, with jet black hair that fell below the shoulders. Buxom and curvy in all the right places. Special Massage? I thought to myself. I'll fuck your bloody brains out if you'll let me!

But what I actually said was: "Would you like me to leave the room while you change?"

She simply smiled at me, placed her bag on the table and began peeling off her clothes.

She slowly stripped, turning away as she removed her bra, but then glancing back like a stripper as she let it fall away. Then she bent forwards slightly and slipped down her lacy knickers, wriggling her bum in my direction. I'll be honest, my johnson was a tentpole already and I hadn't even touched her yet!

I tried to compose myself. This delightful creature was obviously up for it, but I still had a job to do.

She laid across the couch and I worked on her shoulders and back. Yes, I realise it's a bit poetic, and probably not entirely accurate, but the temperature was definitely rising. I swear there was steam coming off her body. She was, figuratively and literally, smoking!

There was a buzz from the table. And then another. Obviously her phone. We both tried to ignore it. When it buzzed a third time, she sat up.

"Sorry Rick," she said. "Let me deal with this." She hopped off and fished out her phone, stabbing at it in annoyance. She fired off a long message, then threw it back in the bag.

It took a couple of minutes but my magic hands soon got her back into a relaxed state. After the usual legs, arms and feet I let my hand brush across her buttocks lightly. She shivered.

"Would you like me to..?" I started but she cut me off.

"Oh yes." She cooed. "Most definitely!"

I took that as consent and let my hands stroke her buttocks and slide over her tummy towards her amazingly round and wholesome boobs. I wondered if they were, er, 'enhanced' in any way, but as I kneaded them gently and brushed her nipples I couldn't feel any evidence of implants. She was sighing and moaning.

She reached over to my crotch and stroked my bulge. I didn't need any more encouragement and quickly shucked off my clothes, grabbed a condom and climbed between her legs. I would have taken her to the bedroom, but the whole situation was rather steamy and passionate. I didn't want to spoil the moment. She clearly didn't need any lubrication because her pussy was oozing. I held up the condom.

"Shall I...?" I murmured but she cut me off again.

"No," she said hungrily and grinned.

She reached around and clasped my buttocks, lifted her legs and pulled me into her tight, wet pussy. Well, that's fine with me, I mused, as I thrust into her.

It wasn't that I didn't care about contraception. It was simply that I took the view that sex is always going to be a matter of trust. We are, after all, intelligent, well-informed adults. Everyone involved should take some responsibility for protecting themselves and their partners. Of course, I was getting tested regularly. In my line of work it's a priority. So I was confident that I was clean and safe. I trusted my clients to make their own decisions.

She was a powerhouse. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and her legs around my waist and I slammed into her. She moaned and screamed, and I felt her hot box contract as she came several times. I'll admit that, as far as a shag was concerned, she was fucking amazing.

When it was over, she clambered off the couch and threw on her clothes.

"That was incredible," I muttered, grinning at her as she dressed.

"Yes, it was," she said quietly. She looked at me and I sensed a little sadness in her eyes.

"Did I do something wrong?" I muttered.

"You are..." she started but paused. "Sorry, I need to go. Good luck." And she left.

I lay on the couch for a minute or two. My cock was still throbbing a little from the effects of her delicious vagina. Odd lady, I thought. But what a shag!

And now, a few days later, sitting in a Police station interview room, I could see it all laid out. Probably a hooker, I thought. Well paid and carefully briefed on exactly what to do and say.

"We have her statement, and a semen sample," said the detective matter-of-factly. "We'd like a swab from you too."

"Sure," I mumbled. "Whatever."

It was over. I was completely and totally fucked.

Chapter 14

***

Innocent until proven guilty.

It's an admirable aim, but one that is fraught with contradictions and difficulties. What exactly is 'innocence'? Or indeed 'guilt'? And who gets to judge? Officially the jury of course, but beyond that? The judge? The press, with their own political and commercial interests? Or maybe the public, watching with wicked glee as the scandal unfolds?

And where, precisely, does 'truth fit into it all? One person's lie could be another's misunderstanding, or delusion, or simply 'alternate truth'.

For me, it was perhaps more a question of scale. Had I been living a life of debauchery? Absolutely. Immorality? Quite probably. Predatory? In all honesty, I couldn't say. I'm sure that most of us believe we are in the right, but in truth, I suppose these things are for others to judge.

They marched me in front of a magistrate. I was formally charged and bailed. The duty solicitor I'd been allocated suggested I go straight home and stay put. He said he'd drop by in a few days to get started on the case.

They were everywhere. Photographers and reporters outside the court. Paparazzi hanging around the apartment (how the hell did they get my address!) I made the local radio news, then the national, then the papers. And after a couple of days I had a new moniker: The Massage Molester. It would have been funny if it didn't represent the end of my life.

Reporters were buzzing the door wanting to ask questions and after a while I disconnected it, so I almost missed her.

"Peek-a-boo! I know you're in there," said the message that slid under the door. "It's Vanessa and I have pizza." My heart fluttered for a moment.

"Just for the record, I don't believe a word of it," she said as she strode in, carrying bags of groceries and a large pizza box. She dumped them in the kitchen and turned, looking around the apartment.

"Could do with a bit of Kondo," she grinned.

"They trashed it. I couldn't be bothered to tidy up."

"Understandable. No phone?"

"They took it away," I said simply. "I should probably get another one."

She paused and looked at me for a moment. "Need a hug?"

"Fuck, yes," I replied. We cuddled and I sobbed a bit, trying to explain.

"Shush," she whispered. "No need. I know who you are, Rick Rollins. All the crap in the papers is bollocks."

We opened wine and devoured the pizza. I think I must have talked a lot. I was probably mumbling incoherently but she listened patiently. I explained about all my ladies and she just nodded.

"I know," she said. "I'm not stupid. And besides, I recommended you to at least three friends of mine."

"Yes, of course." I suddenly remembered my 'client notes' with horror.

"I've probably got a lot of married women into trouble."

Vanessa paused. "Actually," she purred. "I was one of the first people the Police called. I managed to get to Jenny, Fiona and Maya and warn them. Between us we've pieced most of it together. Everybody knows everybody in this town." She laughed. "Probably haven't warned all of them, mind. I suspect there are going to be a lot of suspicious husbands out there."

Fuck. I hadn't even thought about them. Dozens of men that probably want to skin me alive.

"And I've arranged a proper barrister to take your case. He's good, one of the best."

***

We met at his chambers. He was a tall guy, rather imposing I thought. I vaguely recognised him from somewhere.

"Anthony Winterbottom," he boomed, shaking my hand. "But please call me Tony."

"Oh," I gulped. The memory crashed into my head. Jenny's husband! "Er, I'm not sure if I can really afford..."

"All covered. You have a generous benefactor."

"Oh, OK. What I meant was, I'm not sure if it's appropri..."

"Because you've been fucking my wife?" said Tony. I just stood there with my jaw open and flushed.

Tony motioned me to sit and I dropped into a chair.

"Yes, I was pissed off when she told me," he started. "And I'll be honest, I'm not your biggest fan right now. But since that massage course, she's been a different woman. Relaxed, carefree, passionate, full of life..." He dropped to a whisper. "...and bloody good in the bedroom!"

I was lost for words.

"I'm putting that down to your influence." I wondered if he knew about Ruth, but I wasn't going to go there.

"Not that I'm going to thank you or anything," he continued. "But Jenny begged me to help and I believe in justice, so if you're willing to be candid, I'll do everything I can."

I was gobsmacked.

***

"It's going to be tough," said Tony a few hours later. "Essentially your word against hers. These cases can go either way but with your, well, career choice, we'll need to work hard and smart to convince a jury."

So I'm screwed then, I thought. Appropriate and fitting, given that very sordid career choice.

It was three months before the case came to court. Three months with little to do, no income and very little hope. Tony said they were liaising with the prosecution and looking at the evidence. He'd interviewed Miss Brown and yes, she was, indeed, a high class escort. He was looking at ways of getting that into the defence.

Vanessa popped in from time to time and kept me topped up with supplies, but I soon burned through my savings, finally accepting that I wasn't going to be able to pay the rent much longer. Might be better off in jail, I thought to myself. At least I'll have a roof over my head. I bit the bullet and called my landlady.

"You're paid up," she said. "At least until the end of the trial. You have some friends out there." Probably Vanessa, I mused. Again. I thanked her for not kicking me out.

"It sounds like there are quite a few people on your side," she said. "But I have to be honest Rick, whatever happens in court, I need to think about my reputation. Tenants won't rent from me if they think I'm harbouring, er, well, you know..." She petered out and my heart sank a little.

"Sure," I said sullenly. "Totally understand. The way things are looking I'll probably have full board and lodgings after the trial anyway - at Her Majesty's Pleasure."

***

The courtroom was a cavernous space, filled with wood panelling, a multitude of desks, computers, clerks, ushers and countless reporters.

The gallery was also packed. As they brought me in, I glanced around and spotted a few faces. One or two of my ladies (although mostly the single ones). Probably a few angry husbands too, I thought. One lone figure that sent a sliver of hope through my body: Vanessa. Perched in the corner alone, composed and attentive. What an amazing woman, I thought.

The first couple of days of the trial belonged to the prosecution. To be honest, I'd pretty much given up any hope. They opened with a Police officer. She was presumably the one who had first handled Emmy's complaint. I finally heard her side of the story, albeit told through a formal Police report. It was eerily truthful. And complete bullshit!

Miss Brown had been invited to Mr Rollins' home, where she understood he offered services of a sexual nature. She initially thought she was paying for a massage and 'happy ending' which she believed would involve manual relief. It all sounded so clinical. I was flushing with embarrassment at every revelation.

Miss Brown had not consented to any form of intimate sexual contact (what the fuck?!) but Mr Rollins had climbed on top of her naked. She had clearly said "no" when he initially suggested sex. I was struggling to believe my ears. This was complete poppycock.

After the incident, Miss Brown had gone straight to the Police to report it and a full medical examination had been conducted. DNA extracted from the semen sample matched Mr Rollins' DNA.

It all sounded so damning. My heart just sank and sank.

The court took a short recess and I huddled with Tony in the side room kept for the defendant.

"Try not to worry," he said plainly. "We'll have our time. A lot of this is going to feel awful but I'll do what I can to mitigate the evidence."

"She's lying through her teeth."

"Technically, she hasn't said anything. It's just a Police report. And unless she testifies we can't compel her to speak. As I said before, it's your word against hers."

"Do I have to testify?" I asked, dreading the idea.

"Absolutely not!" he replied. "The prosecution can't compel you and, for us, it's a last resort only. Let's see how it goes."

They introduced several witnesses that I recognised, including some of my ladies. I was devastated and heartbroken. Mandy Clay's gardener confirmed I had been a regular visitor at the Clay household. Then Mandy herself was called. The prosecution asked her if she had ever had sex with me. I could see that she was struggling, but she had no choice but to confirm. Yes. How often? Weekly. Did I specifically ask for consent on each occasion? Not always, no. Several ridiculous questions that implied the exact opposite of what actually took place. Then it was Tony's turn to cross examine.

"Mrs Clay, at any point in your relationship with Mr Rollins did you ever consider that you were paying for sex?"

Mandy smiled at me briefly. I sensed that perhaps she was on my side after all.

"Never," she said smartly and clearly. "I only ever paid for a massage. And a very good one!" There were sniggers from the court.

The judge reprimanded her. "Please just answer with facts, Mrs Clay."

"And do you believe that you consented to sex on each occasion that it took place?" Tony continued.

"Absolutely! Sorry, I mean yes," she said, but she was grinning widely.

I was wondering where hubby was in all this. Tony continued.

"Is it true that you were recently diagnosed with a long term medical condition?"

"Yes, I'm currently in counselling for hypersexuality."

"I understand your husband is supporting you through this treatment?"

"Objection!" shouted the opposing counsel. "Irrelevant to the case."

The judge looked at Tony. "I'm not seeing the point, counsel."

"Apologies, Madam," said Tony. "May I just clarify one point Mrs Clay. When you say "hypersexuality" can you just explain that for the lay men and women in the court?"

Mandy blushed but held her head high and spoke defiantly. "I'm a nymphomaniac."

We adjourned for lunch. Vanessa brought me a sandwich and Tony sorted through his notes as we ate quietly.

"I'd say that Mrs Clay was a win for us," he smiled encouragingly.

I looked across at Vanessa and blushed. "Poor woman," I mumbled. I felt ashamed.

"Don't worry," she said reassuringly. "I caught her outside the court. She's fine and says "hi" and "good luck". She also wanted to thank you - for, erm, services rendered." She grinned. "Sounds to me like she only needed medical help once her previous 'treatment' became unavailable."

The prosecution continued with several more of my ladies. Tony tried having the evidence thrown out as irrelevant, but the judge gave them the benefit of the doubt. Something along the lines of attesting to my character and the impact of my behaviour. If they're going to march out all my ladies and ask them how often we had sex, they might as well just lock me up now, I thought to myself miserably. Perhaps I'm the one that needs treatment?

Maya came to the stand. She confirmed our regular tryst. All the same stupid questions about consent. Then Tony stood to cross-examine.

"Mrs West, I only have one question for you. How have the revelations of this case affected your marriage?"

"Objection!" screamed opposing counsel. The judge peered at him over her specs. "Wasn't your argument for illustrating the impact of the defendant's behaviour, counsel?" She barked.

"Er, yes Madam," he replied, sitting quickly.

"You may answer," she said to Maya.

"I left my husband three months ago. We're going through a divorce."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Mrs West," said Tony.

"Don't be. It was about bloody time!" She barked to titters from the gallery.

They called Fiona. As she waddled out to the witness box, there were growing murmurs from the gallery. I couldn't hear much but caught one comment. "Bloody hell, that's commitment to the job," someone muttered, just a little too loudly.

I guess the prosecution was learning that mindless questions about sex weren't going to build a particularly strong case.

"How often did you meet the defendant?" Said the barrister.

"Oh, once or twice per month," chirped Fiona, wobbling like a large jelly where she sat.

"I'm afraid I need to speak bluntly, Mrs Tailor. Did any of your sessions involve restraint? Tying of the hands, for example?"

"Oh gosh, yes!" chirped Fiona. "All of them. I was usually blindfolded, bound and sometimes gagged."

The noise level rose considerably. The press are going to have a bloody field day with this, I thought. The judge called for quiet.

"So would you say that you were completely helpless when the defendant was giving you the, er, massage service?" said Weller.

Fiona nodded and I watched the jurors who all looked pretty shocked by all this. Weller looked triumphant, and then blew it.

"Would you say the defendant could have taken full advantage of you, even without your consent?" He said.

"Oh, I doubt it. David would have had something to say about that!"

"I'm sorry? Do you mean your husband?"

"Of course! Who else? David was always in the room. He's sort of my cuck. Rick's my bull."

The room erupted with gasps, a few sniggers and some laughter. Fiona grinned at me and winked.

"No further questions," said Weller, despairing at his error.

Tony stood as the room hushed again.

"Mrs Tailor, just one question. The prosecution seem keen to paint Mr Rollins as a manipulative womaniser. Do you agree with that assessment?"

Fiona paused and the room quietened. She looked over at me.

"Possibly one of the most caring and attentive men I've ever met," she purred. She looked up at the gallery and heads turned to where David was sitting. He was grinning too and nodding enthusiastically.

"Rick probably saved our marriage," she finished quietly.

***

Tony arrived a little late for the next day's proceedings and met me in the side room as usual.

"Just met with opposing counsel. They're suggesting Amelia take the stand."

"That's good isn't it?" I cried. "You can expose all those fucking lies!"

"Yes, possibly, but I'm afraid there's a catch. They'll only call her for the prosecution if you agree to stand in defence."

I hesitated. It was my worst fear. Exposed to the whole world.

"I'm not going to lie Rick, it'll be tough. Weller may seem like a klutz at times but he'll pull you apart. Every little detail."

Tony gave me a moment to think.

"Everything so far, apart from that Police report, is circumstantial or irrelevant. As far as facts are concerned your semen was inside her body and it's your word against hers over consent."

I braced myself. It can't get much worse, I thought.

Emmy looked considerably different from our original meeting. She'd cut her hair shorter and dressed demurely in flats, a plain suit and woollen top. With simple lacquered nails and minimal makeup, you'd be forgiven for thinking she worked at the local library.

The counsel for the prosecution carefully established their case. He took her through the events of the day, starting with the original call, the arrival and then the massage session.

Had I left the room while she changed? No

Was she covered in any way during the massage? No

Had I explicitly requested consent to touch her groin or breasts? No

And when I asked about sexual intercourse and protection exactly what words did she use? Just the word "no."

Tony started the cross examination carefully and precisely.

"May I remind you Miss Brown, that you are under oath. Perjury is a criminal offence." She nodded.

"Is it true that most of your income comes from..."

"Objection!" interrupted Weller. "Miss Brown's job is irrelevant."

"I'm sorry, Mr Winterbottom, but I must agree. Can we stick with the events of 20th July please," instructed the judge.

Tony's shoulders sagged a little. A vital opportunity lost. He paused, checked his notes and steadied himself.

"In his statement, Mr Rollins claims that he asked you if you would like intimate contact. Did you reply "Oh yes, most definitely."?

"I thought he meant more massage on my legs," she said clearly.

"Did you attempt to stop him from touching your breasts or genitals?"

"I wanted to but I was scared. He's a strong guy and I didn't want to get hurt."

I could tell it was rehearsed. This wasn't the girl I romped with on the massage couch. I knew I was doomed but I felt a little sorry for her.

"During the sexual act, did you say anything further or attempt to stop him?"

She glanced at me and I saw the same glint of sadness I'd seen that evening in my apartment. I realised it wasn't sadness, but remorse.

"Once he was on top of me I couldn't stop him," she said softly to deafening silence.

"And in Mr Rollins statement, he claims to have said "That was incredible" to which you replied "Yes it was!"

"I'm sorry," she muttered and tears formed in her eyes. "I just wanted to get out of there."

Well that's that then, I thought. I felt ashamed of myself and sorry for her. I knew it wasn't true, and she knew it wasn't true, but maybe this is what I deserve, I thought, sinking into despair and finally accepting my fate.

Tony was abjectly apologetic over his blunder with Emmy.

"I should have just said "You're a hooker aren't you Miss Brown!"

"I don't think it really matters," I replied. "The funny thing is, pretty much everything that was said is true. It's just a question of how you interpret it."

Vanessa had joined us for lunch and sat quietly as we ate and discussed possible witnesses.

"There were a lot of them, weren't there," she muttered and then realised what she'd said. "Sorry Rick, I didn't mean that critically."

I hung my head. "No, you're right, it was fucking crazy. Laura was right six months ago. Totally out of control. I don't think I'll ever be giving anyone a massage - never, ever again!"

She came over and kissed me on the cheek. "Never say never," she smiled.

After we'd had a long debate about the relevance of individual witnesses, I called a halt to the conversation.

"Enough is enough. I'm not putting any more of those women through that experience. It isn't fair. Just put me on the stand. Either the jury believes me or they don't."

Tony pondered for a moment.

"I may call one other witness," he said. "I've been working on it for a while and she insists she wants to testify, if the court allows it. Still trying to get permission."

The prosecution rested with Emmy, so we were up.

I took the stand and was sworn in. I was shaking slightly and tried to calm myself. Looking out over the sea of faces I began to understand how life-changing a trial can be. Guilty or innocent, I knew that nothing would ever be the same. The old carefree, bang-anything-in-a-skirt Rick was gone for sure. I'd finally grown up.

Tony tried to establish credibility. He listed all the positive comments from previous witnesses. Asked me about how I'd set up the business and how I ran it. We covered training, ethics, paperwork, insurance, the law. I described how I checked IDs where relevant, sought consent, got regularly tested for STIs and used contraception wherever requested and often with new clients. It was matter-of-fact and sounded professional.

He finished with a flourish.

"For absolute clarity Mr Rollins, have you ever had intimate contact or sexual intercourse with anyone who you believed had NOT given you consent to do so?"

"Never, Sir," I said meekly. "I have never wanted to do anything other than give pleasure and joy to my clients."

Weller grilled me hard for 40 minutes. Was I aware of the laws around soliciting and prostitution in the UK? Or the impact it has on both prostitutes and their clients? Did I really believe that offering so-called 'massage services' justified the true purpose of the enterprise, which was to take advantage of vulnerable women?

He pulled out copies of my client records and read them out to the court.

"Maya (husband: Andy). Loves firm pressure, hands and fingers. Awesome BJs. Janet (husband: Ray). Quite shy, keep it gentle. Lots of breast play. Susan (husband: Peter). Loves to be licked, then fucked doggy style."

He paused for effect. "Would you say these were typical client records kept by a massage therapist?" He barked and there were titters from the gallery.

I wanted to explain but it all just seemed so lame and pathetic, so I just remained silent.

We went through the entire evening with Emmy again.

"Doesn't a professional therapist leave the room when their clients are changing?"

"Er, usually yes."

"What exactly did you say before you touched Miss Brown's breasts?"

"Would you like me to..." I replied. "But she was..." Weller cut me off.

"And you consider that to be a clear request for consent to intimate contact?"

"I... er..."

"Miss Rollins claims you were on top of her and said "Shall I?" and she said "No."

"Yes, but we were talking about a condom," I pleaded, but I knew it was futile.

"And you expect the jury to believe that?"

And on it went. I just wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. It was a massacre. The court adjourned after my evidence.

"You did OK Rick, under the circumstances," said Tony sympathetically. "There's one more witness tomorrow morning. Keep your chin up."

Vanessa knocked and entered.

"I think I'm going to take you out for dinner," she said.

"Condemned man's last meal?" I suggested.

"You really know how to put a downer on a night out don't you?" She smiled and I managed a grimace.

She thanked Tony for everything he'd done.

"I wish there was more," he said. "With cases like this there's so little to go on. Forensic evidence is irrelevant. No witnesses. No phone records. It just comes down to one person's word against..."

"Phone records?" I said suddenly. "What about the texts? Emmy had a phone with her and she definitely got messages while we were together."

Tony and Vanessa stared at me.

"Sorry, I totally forgot. I mean, probably not relevant anyway," I stammered.

"No stone unturned," said Tony as he grabbed his notes and rushed out.

She drove me to a swanky Chinese place but it was no better than being in court. Everyone knew my face now, so heads turned constantly as we sat and tried to order. Vanessa ignored it but I couldn't.

"I'm really sorry but this isn't working," I muttered. She understood and took me back to the apartment.

"You've been incredibly generous," I started as we tucked into take out food.

"I'm a sucker for lost causes," she said. I had to double-take but she was grinning. I laughed with her.

"That's better," she said. "I haven't see you smile for weeks."

"I wish there was something I could do to repay you."

"Well," she paused tentatively. "I have been struggling with my shoulders recently. Maybe a quick massage?"

You don't need the details but she left feeling much, much better and I slept like a baby. But while I slept a small army was gathering on my behalf. I only learned this much later, but I'll describe it to you here, just as it happened.

***

Vanessa received a call on the way back to her apartment.

"I need your help," said Tony. "I called in the judge and she forced the investigating officers to hand over Brown's phone records. They insisted it's irrelevant but I'm not buying it. But there's a problem."

"What can I do?" said Vanessa.

"Help me trawl through it. There are 300 pages of calls and texts. It would take me weeks on my own and my team have left for the day. Tomorrow's the last day of the trial. There's no way I'll get an extension at this stage."

"Meet me at Martin Healthcare," said Vanessa calmly as she pulled a u-turn and headed into town. She gave him the address.

***

"Somewhere in this lot there has to be something that can help Rick," said Vanessa to the room.

They were all there. All my ladies. Vanessa had called Jenny, who then called Maya. They spread the word. "Rick needs our help, are you in?" And here they were, spread around the boardroom. I'm sure it must have been weird. Some of these ladies had never met but they had a common bond: my co-called 'magic hands'. And possibly my penis.

"I'm not going anywhere," chirped Jenny. "Even if it takes all night."

"Plenty of tea!" squealed Mandy from the kitchen area.

"And biscuits," chipped in Fiona, emptying her enormous bag on to the table. "I, erm, like to keep a stock on hand."

The ladies looked incredulously at Fiona's horde, then laughed.

"Thank you ladies," said Vanessa, quietly. "Let's get to work."

***

It was the last day. I dragged myself out of bed, showered and dressed. I said a silent goodbye to the apartment as I left. Don't suppose I'll be coming back here, I thought with a tinge of sadness. Next stop: cell block H.

Tony called Lisa Radka as a witness, explaining who she was. I was dumbstruck. "You're kidding!" I whispered. He grinned. The court had set up a video screen so that Lisa could give evidence from elsewhere. "Vulnerable witness," Tony explained. "Had to fight hard for it to be allowed, but she's testifying."

"Objection! This witness is irrelevant to the alleged offences," barked Weller.

"In my opinion, counsel, some of your prosecution witnesses were equally questionable," replied the judge. "I'd like to hear what this witness has to say."

Tony described her situation to the court and went through a few details with her. Not the whole story of our encounter, but the critical bits. Lisa answered every question confidently. I couldn't see her face, which was obscured on the screen, but it was clearly Lisa's voice. I sighed inside, full of relief. She sounded OK. I was welling up and overjoyed to hear her in such good health. I don't have children but I think I sensed, for just a few minutes, the overwhelming joy and relief a father must feel, knowing his precious child is safe and well.

"Did you hear any mention of the defendant after the incident?" Tony continued.

"There was a lot of swearing," said Lisa. "I heard one of the men saying that the massage wanker was going to get sorted."

I'm not one to take offence, but it occurred to me that of all the insults I could receive, 'wanker' was probably the least accurate.

"And finally, in your opinion, did the defendant's actions contribute to your rescue?"

"Objection!" shouted opposing counsel. "Calls for speculation."

"Mr Weller!" snapped the judge, glaring at him. "This young lady has been through hell and back. Allow her to speak!"

She turned towards Tony. "Please continue, counsel."

"Thank you Madam. Once again Miss Radka, did Rick Rollins help secure your freedom?"

There was a pause.

"Rick saved my life," said Lisa quietly. "No question about it."

As the prosecution team considered whether to cross, Vanessa marched into the courtroom and headed over to Tony's desk. She handed him a fistful of documents and they muttered for a moment.

"No questions for this witness," said Weller. Lisa was excused and I silently wished her well in life. Stay safe, I thought, and said a little prayer.

"Your honour, some new evidence has come to light. May I share with the bench?"

Tony and Weller huddled with the judge who then called a short recess. I didn't see Tony during the break so had no idea what was going on, but Vanessa popped her head in and grinned. She gave me a hug.

"I'm making enquiries about Lisa Radka," she said. "I promise you that whatever happens I'll make sure she's looked after. I'll get her home one way or another."

I looked at her and fell in love. I kissed her, without lust or desire, just the overwhelming ecstasy of tenderness and gratitude.

"Vanessa, I know it's far too late but I just want to tell you..."

We were interrupted by the usher. Court was back in session.

"We're recalling Miss Amelia Brown," Tony stated to the jury and the court. Emmy took the stand, obviously confused, as was almost everyone else in the courtroom.

"Miss Brown, is there anything you'd like to amend in the statement you gave Police after the alleged incident on July Twentieth?"

Emmy looked uncomfortable but remained defiant, with a firm "no."

Tony held up the papers Vanessa had passed across earlier.

"Your honour, I have records from a mobile phone belonging to Miss Brown and registered to her. They only came to light a few hours ago, but we've submitted them as evidence."

The judge nodded. Opposing counsel had been poring over the papers and now sat in stony silence. I sensed a moment of hope.

"The prosecution has already established, and Mr Rollins has confirmed, that you were with him at his apartment, between 7:30PM and 8:45PM. Do you still agree?"

"Yea, I guess," mumbled Emmy.

"During that time a number of text messages were received and sent on this phone, at the same location.

At 7:52PM from an unknown number: "Are you there yet?"

At 7:56PM: "What's happening?"

And at 8:01PM: "Have you done it?"

The room was absolutely silent as the entire court collectively held its breath.

"Miss Brown, can you confirm that you replied to those messages at 8:03PM with the message: "Piss off and let me work. I'm going to fuck him OK! I'll call you later."

The court erupted.

Emmy said nothing, staring at the floor, and I saw a tear roll down her cheek.

"No further questions," shouted Tony over the din. "The defence rests."

Both counsels waved closing arguments. As the jury filed out, Tony smiled and winked, leaning in. "You'll be fine," he murmured, grinning. "I had intended to suggest you were set up by the trafficking gang in revenge, but I'm sure the jury will work that out for themselves."

It took less than 20 minutes. On all charges: Not guilty.

"You are free to go, Mr Rollins," said the judge and she left the court. And suddenly it was over.

As the guard confirmed my release, Vanessa walked across and took my hands. I looked at her and my heart almost burst.

"I don't know what to say. I'm so..." I started but she cut me off.

"Shush," she said and hugged me.

I looked across the room. There were all my ladies, grinning. I welled up and the dam burst. I sobbed with joy in Vanessa's arms while everyone shook hands, laughing and hugging.

***

We sat, a few days later, in Leno's, a small, discreet and very exclusive Italian just behind the Old Market. It was dimly lit and almost empty, just as Vanessa had suggested it would be.

"My treat. It's the kind of place that's so pretentious hardly anybody comes here!" She laughed. "And those who can afford to, don't admit it!"

We munched thoughtfully on bowls of fancy ravioli, dressed with rocket and pungent olive oil.

"I still don't know what to say," I murmured as I forked another little parcel of pasta into my mouth. "I am sooo grateful."

"Stop it, already!" She smiled. "That's enough grovelling for today."

"I just don't how I'll ever be able to..."

"Do you know why I'm still single?" She asked, firmly cutting me off.

I paused, mid-chew, trying to process the thought. I'd asked the same question myself many times.

"Too busy?" I ventured. "All men are bastards? Closet lesbian maybe?"

She grinned. "Mmmm, well I suppose I wouldn't be averse to a little, er, exploration, in that direction."

My johnson twitched and the pasta fell out of my mouth. Vanessa smiled.

"Not all men are bastards," she continued. "But they seem to be afraid of me. Either they just don't approach, or they feel the need to compete. You're not like that, Rick."

"Well, that's because I'm not really in your, you know, league," I started, but realised how patronising it sounded. "Sorry, what I mean is: I don't feel worthy."

"Exactly my point," she replied softly. "And yet you've brought pleasure to me, and all your ladies, selflessly and without judgement or demands. That sounds pretty worthy to me."

"It's kind of my job," I said. "Or at least it was. And I do have the old magic hands." I waved them in the air, although Vanessa didn't really need a visual reminder. She chuckled and smiled.

"There's no such thing as magic, you should know that. Most women are starved of attention from men who are more interested in their own needs."

She leaned forward.

"What you do is so caring and sensitive, it just feels like magic."

I blushed.

"And, of course, you are very, very good at it," she whispered lasciviously.

I blushed again.

She paused and we gazed at each other. Her eyes sparkled and I fell in love with her all over again. Slightly more lustfully this time.

"So what next?" She chirped.

"I have no fucking idea!"

"Here's the thing. My apartment is downtown, on the river. It's not huge. Although there is a terrace. And, er, a sauna." Now it was her turn to sound a little apologetic.

"Very nice," I murmured jealously. "I should get into the healthcare business!"

"Well, until three months ago, you were," she laughed and I grimaced. "Why don't you... you know... move in with me for a bit?"

My heart leapt a little but in my head I knew I had to be realistic.

"It may be a couple of months before I get sorted out."

She reached across the table and took my hands. She paused, squeezed them, and her eyes softened.

"I was thinking a bit longer than that," she said calmly.

As it slowly dawned on me, I felt the growing warmth of love spread through my body. It touched my soul and radiated out. I began to float.

"I..." I started, but she already knew what I wanted to say.

"I knew you were the one, months ago," she murmured. "I just didn't know if you felt the same way."

I grinned broadly and we laughed, gazing into each other's eyes lustfully.

"Wait till I get you home," I whispered, grinning.

"Why?" she giggled. "Are you going to put your magic hands on me?"

THE END

 

AFTERWORD

I wrote this during lockdown 2020 and it was an extraordinary journey. I started with little idea what to write, or where it might lead. Just an urge to do something erotic. Most of the characters didn't exist until I gave them names on paper. And I knew very little about our hero, Rick (although it's no surprise to say there's a fair bit of my personal fantasy in that lovely, talented young man!)

So the story unfolded for me in much the same way it has for you. Sexy encounters, adventures, challenges and perils, lessons to be learned and, of course, a very happy ending (if you'll excuse the innuendo.) I never really knew what was going to happen next until very close to the end. Better than sex? Probably not. But it was a great deal of fun to write.

Of course, as any massage therapist will confirm, it's just a fantasy, so I'd advise against rushing out and paying for a massage course, unless you're really committed to a career of hard work and a very sore back. Yes, it's true that I have experienced one or two sexy moments as a therapist and my real life clients will no doubt spot the occasional comment or reference (all names have been changed, of course!) But it certainly hasn't been the romp that Rick enjoyed. Lucky bastard!

And as a morality tale there are a few issues to reflect on - sex & sensuality, relationships, protection, and that all important "consent" which, as Rick discovered, is a minefield of difficulties. My story isn't a comment on modern attitudes to rape, or victim shaming, or the legal process. They were merely a crude mechanism to get Rick into Vanessa's arms. But if you find anything offensive, I apologise for my carelessness and ignorance. I'm not here to lecture, but if there's anything to learn from his adventures it is that we ALL need to take care - of ourselves and each other.

What happened to Emmy, and Lisa, and all the ladies? Well, I cannot really say for sure. I suppose Emmy must have suffered for her crime, although I like to think it was more an error of judgement. Despite her evil ways, she was rather delicious, don't you think? And just as vulnerable as any other character. And for Lisa I had, at one point, thought about having Vanessa and Rick adopt and take care of her, but that just seemed ridiculous and unbelievable (unlike the rest of the story - hahahaha), so she's safely making her way home. I'm sure the rest of the ladies are all fine, although they probably need to look elsewhere for their R&R.

For now, I think Rick needs a breather after his ordeal and some quality time with the new love of his life. Will they return? Never say never, eh?!

Thank you for reading.