“I really want to lie and say no,” I admit, my voice muffled in the pillow. “Because this feels so good.”
“You should stretch more after you exercise,” she says. “Or the bike rides with your dad.”
The warmth I feel at her remembering that is a soft surprise.
“I did stretch this morning. I stretched for twenty minutes more than I usually do just so I could watch you run.”
She chuckles. “I guess sprinting down to the bar didn’t help?”
“Or running after you to get back here,” I point out.
“I was a woman in need.”
She moves to apply pressure through her knuckles now which burns my calf muscles, especially my recovering left one, but in a satisfying way. Every now and again she stops at the skin behind my knees and strokes me there with feather-light touches. It sends shivers up my whole body.
“You're good at this,” I tell her.
“I did a course,” she says.
“To become a massage therapist?”
She hesitates. “Not exactly.”
“Then what?” As much as my cock is warming up again, I suddenly want to ask her questions and hear her answer them.
“Tantric massage,” she says.
“What?” My eyes dart open.
“It's a kind of full-body massage technique that can be used to elongate and intensify sexual pleasure,” she says.
“I know what it is,” I say. “I'm twenty-four, not fourteen.”
“Well, I didn't know what it was at your age.” She sounds a little sad.
“What did you learn?” I am suddenly fascinated.
She clears her throat lightly. “I learned that my husband thought I was crazy for going.”
“Serious?”
“Yeah, so after a few weeks, I never went back. I couldn't be interested enough for two of us. But I learned that no matter what tricks and hacks you may learn for sex, none of them will ever be as effective as just good old-fashioned desire. At least for me, that’s what matters most and it’s one of the things that makes sex amazing for me. And my ex-husband, I think he just stopped desiring me, and we couldn't get it back. No matter how many hours I tried to spend giving him hand jobs.” She forces a laugh.
“What are the other things?” I ask.
“Other things?”
“You said, one of the things that makes sex amazing for you. What are the other things?”
She sighs. “How long have you got?”
“Look, I'm a simple man with blue balls who is enjoying the feel of your hands a little bit too much. Give me the shortlist.”
“Everything,” she says. “Everything has the potential to make sex amazing, if it's done with enough intention and connection.”
“Intention and connection,” I repeat. “You should write about this shit.”
“I do!” She laughs louder. “Or rather, I did. I had a sex and relationships column in a Sunday newspaper, another in a woman’s magazine and I wrote lots of other pieces for magazines, papers and blogs.” She goes back to massaging my legs.
