Electric Blue. Nancy Bush
soon as I was alone I hurried to the south wall where Miriam and Trevin were getting into their massage. I pressed my ear to the wall, looking around for a tumbler glass or any other conduit. Nothing.
I could make out a few snatches of conversation. Miriam said something about hating to wait so long. Trevin asked her about Stan, or maybe Lance. She responded with a raise in her voice. Very clearly, she said, “I can’t live my life like this. I won’t!” Trevin suggested she lie down and relax. She said she was glad how things were, now that they were over. Or, maybe she was sad how things were for the lovers. Or maybe it was something else entirely.
I strained, but soft music began emanating from the speakers in my room. At the same moment, there was a knock on my door. My pulse skyrocketed. I glanced around the room like a caged animal.
“Helloooo,” Drago said in a deep voice, cracking the door. “May I come in?”
“Um…not…yet?”
“Do you need help getting onto the table?” He had a faintly European accent that may or may not have been fake.
“Nope. Just need another minute.”
As soon as the door closed I stripped out of my robe and slid bare-ass naked beneath the top sheet, lying on my stomach on the bottom one. There was a hole cut into the bed itself near one end, a place for my face, apparently. I settled myself down, heart thumping. Maybe I should have left my underwear on. I felt…well…naked, which I guess was the point. I glanced around once, noting the nearby table with the oils and little scrubby bead what’s-its, Q-tips and neatly stacked cloth napkin things.
Drago knocked again. “Ready?”
“Yes.”
I got my first look at him as he entered and gently closed the door behind himself. He wore a blue outfit similar to a surgeon’s scrubs. His hair was dark brown; his skin lightly tanned. He was rubbing his hands together in an alarming fashion. “You want a deep massage.”
I wanted to get the hell out. But I’d been granted two hundred dollars, and I knew it wasn’t really my money. If I didn’t use it up, I wasn’t going to get it as a bonus. “Sure.”
Self-consciously, I pushed my face into its special cradle. Drago came up next to me. I heard him rubbing oil between his hands. I squeezed my eyes closed and reminded myself that this was something people paid for because they actually enjoyed it. My breasts pressed against the soft cotton sheet beneath me. The sheet came around my body and held me tightly to the faux-leather covered table.
Drago pushed back a section of top drape, exposing my left arm and shoulder. I jumped when his hands connected with my skin. “You are skittish,” he observed.
No shit, Sherlock.
My cell phone lay on the side table with all the masseuse accouterments. I could almost reach it if I stretched out my left arm. I kept it with me when I’d undressed. Now, I wanted to clasp it in my palm; a true security blanket. Instead I closed my eyes and fought to succumb to the sensation. He was pushing my lats with hard palms, fingers and thumbs.
Deep muscle? It damn near brought tears to my eyes. I’m not sure massage can really be good for you.
“You work out. Firm muscles. You have a good body.”
“You should see my teeth.”
“Pardon?”
It was quiet in the room. I could hear his breathing and my own. I wondered how long we’d been at it, so I checked my watch. Four minutes. I used to periodically go to a tanning salon, and I could find a way to relax enough in those glass beds to actually zone out. It’s a good thing they’re on timers or they could fry a person. Now, I tried to figure out a way to achieve that level of relaxation by letting my mind wander aimlessly on a variety of thoughts. I had a jolt of surprise when Drago flipped up the bottom part of the robe and began working on my left leg. I was highly sensitive to his fingers on my upper, inner thighs. I couldn’t help the tension. I tried, I really did. I fought to stay in the moment and surrender to the whole massage thing.
All I could think about was where his fingers were and what I would do if they strayed where I didn’t want them. Logically, I know this is unlikely. I mean, would it be worth me screaming bloody murder? But it just felt like it could happen.
A few more minutes went by. I was faintly relaxing. Enough to let loose my death grip on the sides of the bed. Drago had moved to my right arm and I was feeling relief.
“Yes, relax,” he said.
I was. I did. Okay, it was good. Kind of hurt in a healthy, you’re doing something great for yourself way. Kind of felt good, too. I sighed deeply. Maybe this was all right. Maybe I’d missed the whole point. Maybe I would make this my new life mission and—
“Mind if I chant?”
My eyes popped open. Chant? “Uh…go ahead.”
“Thank you. It will be good.”
I tensed anew as his rubbing became more rhythmic.
“Ohmmmmmmmmm. Ohmmmmmmmmmm. Daaaaarooooohh hhmmmmm….”
I stared through the face-hole to the floor. His chanting reverberated through the room.
“Ohhhhmmmmmmummmmm…”
My inner vision saw the little glass container of Q-tips. I desperately desired one. I wanted to stick it in my ear and dig away for all I’m worth.
“Ohhmmmmmmmmm….”
I tried to squeeze my ears shut against the vibration. The tickle was excruciating.
“Daaaaarooooooohhhhmmmm…daaaaroooohhhmmmmm…”
Was that a 747 taking off?
“Daaaarooooohhhhmmmmm…”
Every muscle clenched.
“Ohhhhmmmm…mah…mahhhhhhh…”
I needed to relax. I couldn’t make myself.
“Bahhhrrrrkoooohmmmm…”
“Drago,” I whispered.
“Yesss…” His voice sounded sleepy and sated.
From the next room I heard some thumping and moaning. There was the sound of flesh being slapped and cries of ecstasy. It brought Drago out of his trance, for he stalked to the opposite wall and dialed up the music. I caught the thunderous look on his face as he returned to me.
If I’d thought my massage was deep before, I soon learned we’d been in the kiddies’ pool. My breath was lodged in my throat, and when he asked me to turn over I wasn’t sure I was capable. Instantly he was contrite. “Too much? You should have said so.”
“I’m okay.”
“I will be careful with you.”
Staring at the ceiling was even worse. I felt more exposed. But at least for the time being his chanting was over. I could tell he was bugged at what was going on in the next room.
“My friend Miriam likes a little more than massage,” I said, injecting just the right rueful tone.
His dark eyes shot to me. “You do not feel the same.”
“No. Heavens, no. Not me. I struggle with just a massage.”
“Your friend should be more…careful.”
“She thinks Trevin’s the one,” I said, feeling my pulse race once more. Lying, and the fear of being found out, release some chemical from my brain that gets me going. Adrenaline. Maybe endorphins. Whatever. I could feel myself growing high on my own chemistry.
Which is just about hell when you’re completely naked.
Drago eyed me clearly. “Trevin is one.”
Either he didn’t get what I’d meant,