“Ya know,” I said, rubbing my neck and trying to look pitiful. “I think I may have pulled something when we moved the desk. I didn’t notice it before but now …” I let the sentence trail off with a theatrical wince, as though I was in terrible pain. I’m not a very good actor, but my little scene had the desired effect.
“Oh, Ben, I’m so sorry. And you were already so tense.” Dani was by my side at once, wanting to know where it hurt.
“From my neck all the way down to my lower back,” I said, deciding to keep her busy awhile. Dani gives great massages, and even though this would be my second one of the day, I could never resist a chance to have her hands all over me.
She sat me down in a chair, then changed her mind. “I can’t work this way,” she said, tugging at my shirt. “Not and really do you any good. I won’t be able to get to your lower back at all. Take it off.”
“Dani,” I protested. “What about the rest of the office?”
“Let them get their own massages,” she replied promptly. “Now take it off.”
“You know that’s not what I meant,” I said, loosening my tie.
“Fine, if you’re so worried about what other people think …” She went over to the door and slapped it shut with a flourish.
“That probably isn’t going to look too good either,” I pointed out, unbuttoning my shirt.
“Let ’em think what they want.” Dani grinned at me, her pert nose scrunching up like a mischievous little girl’s. God, I loved her smile.
“I’m all yours,” I said, laying my shirt and tie on the desk and spreading my hands. “Have been since the moment I met you.” I could get away with flirting with her like this because she never took me seriously.
“Silly.” Dani tugged at my hair playfully, then got down to business. “Okay,” she said, lacing her fingers together and cracking them like a concert pianist. “Let’s do this right. Turn the chair around and straddle it so I can really get to you.” Her tone was all business — an order, not a request.
I did as she asked at once. Dani had this way of taking charge of a situation, and sometimes she could come off as bossy or domineering. I knew a lot of guys on staff that couldn’t work with her for that reason. In fact, some of them had actually asked me how I could stand to work with her. How could I explain to them that the tough, take-charge exterior was actually a cover-up for the vulnerable little girl my partner kept inside? I couldn’t and didn’t. I knew the other guys thought I was whipped, but I didn’t give a damn. Sure, Dani was high maintenance, but she was worth it, in my opinion.
I leaned forward, my forearms resting on the back of the chair, and stifled a moan as her soft hands began to work on my neck. The massage she had given me earlier had been really nice but this … her silky touch on my bare back … God, I could live on this for weeks. It occurred to me that I should pretend to have back pain a lot more often.
But then she withdrew her hands. I craned my head around to look at her. “Why did you stop?”
Dani was rummaging through the oversized leather backpack she calls a purse with a look of fierce concentration on her face. “What we need is some lotion. Or some … ah-ha! Here it is.” She pulled out a small bottle of baby oil triumphantly, and I groaned.
“Aw, no, Dani. I’ll be all sticky, and that stuff is going to stain my shirt.”
“Don’t be such a baby.” She opened the oil and poured a small amount into her palm. “Look, I’m not using much, and this is going to make it so much better. Now turn around.”
“I feel like I just stepped into some kind of a massage parlor,” I grumbled, but I turned around obediently anyway. The truth was I probably would have let her rub just about anything on my back. Ketchup, mayonnaise, you name it. Maybe I was whipped. I grinned to myself.
“A massage parlor, huh?” Dani’s voice floated to my ear as her hands resumed their magic on my bare back. She was working to smooth the oil all over my skin, sliding her palms in long, sensuous curves from my shoulders to my lower back, and it felt amazing. I could smell the bland sweetness of the baby oil and under it, the warm, secret scent of her skin.
“Yeah,” I said, no longer certain what I was saying.
“If this is a massage parlor, I guess I’m supposed to ask if you want a happy ending, huh, Mister Davis?” She made her voice breathy and low, and even though I knew she was just kidding around, I couldn’t help the way my body responded to it.
“Mmm,” I mumbled, squirming a little in my chair. Her words had evoked all kinds of X-rated pictures inside my head, thoughts I usually tried hard to keep a reign on when I was with her. I thought about being in a real massage parlor with her — only I was the one doing the massaging.
I could just imagine spreading warm oil up the length of her slender, shapely legs and abdomen, then cupping her full breasts in my hands and teasing the nipples until she moaned for more. I wondered what color her nipples were — pale pink? Or maybe they were the same natural, ripe berry-tone as her lips. What would it be like to suck her nipples? To kiss my way down her trembling stomach to the sweet center between her thighs? God, I wanted to spread her legs and worship her with my tongue, to taste her ripe pussy until she cried and writhed under me —
“You’re so stiff today.” Dani’s words interrupted my illicit fantasy, and I shifted in my chair, feeling guilty. She had no idea how right she was. I was usually able to control myself around her, but right now my cock was so hard it was painful. It was also bent the wrong way inside my pants. Damn, I was in serious agony here.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, trying to relax. It was time to banish these sexual dreams and meditate instead. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe deeply, letting myself feel empty and light and at one with the universe, and … and it wasn’t working. Once I had opened the door to it, I couldn’t get the thought of Dani naked, of me touching her, out of my head. What was wrong with me? Was it just the stress of wanting her so much and never being able to talk about it? Or was it my other nature trying to assert itself? Whatever it was, nothing I used to try and control my arousal worked. In fact, I felt ready to pop.
“That’s it, just relax,” Dani murmured in my ear, obviously unaware of my dilemma. “You’re so tense today — touching you is like touching warm steel,” she went on, as her hands began a slow slide down my back to massage my lumbar area.
I managed a strangled, “Sorry,” and bit my lip to keep from saying anything else. God, I had to calm down, or I was going to lose it! I was suddenly right on the edge of going too far. I kept having these vivid fantasies of pulling her down and having her right there on top of her great-grandfather’s antique mahogany desk.
I could almost see it — see myself pressing her down on the desk and raising that short little skirt that had been driving me crazy all damn day. I would push it up around her hips and rip off her panties so I could see and touch and taste her pussy. I wanted to be inside her — buried in her warmth and wetness, thrusting hard to fill her with myself, to let her know exactly how I felt. I wanted her to know that I wasn’t just some toy she could play with when she felt like it and discard when she was bored. I wanted to claim her, to fuck her, to —
“How many crunches do you do a day to keep your abs like this, anyway?” Dani’s voice interrupted my crazy thoughts once more, and her hands slid around the front of my body, playing carelessly with the waistband of my pants. My cock surged painfully at the intimate touch, and it was suddenly too much.