He chuckled. It was a deep, throaty sound. “Close your mouth, Allie. I’m only going to give you a massage. Strictly professional.”
“Oh,” I breathed out my relief. I’d never had a massage before.
“What did you think I was going to do?”
I flushed under his amused expression. “That’s really sweet of you to offer, but-”
“Are you turning me down?” He was frowning. “You don’t want it?”
“Well, yeah, I just don’t think-.” I stopped. Don’t think what? That I’d enjoy it? There was no doubt that I would. Probably very much. Maybe that was the problem.
He patted the table. “Come on, give me a chance. If you’re at all uncomfortable, I’ll stop. You just have to tell me. I’ll give you a minute to get undressed.” Not giving me a chance to object, he went in the bedroom and closed the door.
I just stood there for several seconds, not knowing quite what to do. How undressed, exactly?
Bra and panties? Naked? Was he really only giving me a minute? I kicked off my shoes and
wiggled out of my jeans and t-shirt, made a half-assed attempt at folding them, and ran over to
the table.
The bed was warm. There must have been a heater in the cushion. And the sheets were velvety
soft. I squirmed down in between them, pulling the top one up to my chin. After a second of
hesitation I sat up, unhooked my bra, and flung it over to my pile of clothes.
His bedroom door cracked open. “Are you ready?”
Was I ready? What a good question that was. I thought I was ready, but what, exactly, was I
ready for?




