I stuffed my clothes in a locker even though no one would be coming in, and pulled on the white coat, leaving a few buttons undone at the top so it was obvious that the sweater was absent. I locked the door to the hammam behind me, caught the subtle scent of mint that was being diffused through the heat. Although it was the weekend, we kept the heat on, especially if we had a special booking on the following Monday which we did this week for a minor TV celebrity and her friends.
I pulled my hair back and up into a messy bun and checked my reflection in the large mirror that lined the corridor wall on the way to the pool. When I opened the door I paused, looking at the sight that was in the pool.
Liam had placed himself so he was in the centre, facing the door, looking straight at me. The flicker of orange and yellow lights from the Moroccan style shades made him look like he was under an exotic spotlight. My heart rate had increased. My clit ached. This may have been a bit of a fantasy – hot client, no consequences and steam.
“How’s the water?”
“Amazing. I get this bit.”
“You’ll get the massage as well.” I wanted to tell him the science behind it, how it would make his muscles relax, how it would reduce his blood pressure, alleviate stress, but the words were stuck in my mouth as he lifted himself out the pool.
I’d seen him do this before when we were in Iceland, of course, but then he’d been wearing swim shorts.
Now he was naked.
Water dropped from tightly toned abs and glistened over his chest. He wasn’t bulky, not like Max Callaghan. He was lean and toned and tattooed.
I knew I was staring. The shit-eating grin plastered across his face told me he knew I was staring too.
Liam picked up his towel and dried himself off. “Which room do you want me in?”
Any. Here. Now.
“That one on your left.” I just about managed to form the words, especially as I could now see all of him. His very erect cock told me that it probably wasn’t just me who had been thinking about where this could go.
“Is this a problem?” He gestured to his erection. “I don’t know what your rules are in places like this.”
“Right now, we have no rules. Face down on the bed though.”
I followed him into the room, watched as he got onto the bed, took in the view of his muscles in his back and clenched my thighs together. I just about had enough self-control to not ask him to turn over and straddle him. Just.
The oil I chose contained orange essential oils and was masculine enough (and one of my favourite)s. I warmed it in my hands and I started to smooth it over his back, not kneading hard. I heard him sigh, felt him start to relax. Another step closer to the bed and I was close enough for him to touch me, staying near to his shoulders, massaging the back of his neck.
“How does it feel?”
He turned his head to look at me. “If I told you what was going through my head you’d have me arrested.”
I laughed quietly. “I doubt it.”
“Do you ever get anyone trying something they shouldn’t?” He watched me with an intensity that suggested his brain hadn’t relaxed.
“Only when I was younger and worked in some walk-in places. And only a handful of times. It included women too.”
“That’s an image I’m not going to forget. Does it ever turn you on doing this? And these must sound like lines from…”
“A bad porn film…” I finished his line for him. “It doesn’t generally. It’s my job and I’m concentrating on how the muscles feel.”
“How do my muscles feel?”
“Fairly tight. You have a knot here.” I dug my elbow into a spot next to his shoulder blade and felt him wince.
“You just planned to cause me pain, didn’t you?”
My laugh was louder this time. I stopped teasing the knot and started to apply a more gentle pressure, working down his body, my fingers memorising the feel of him underneath my hands. There was a scattering of scars, tattoos that I traced with a fingertip, and then I reached his ass and here I did what they’d never taught us in college. No towel, just hands, fingers that skimmed across flesh and between thighs, teasing higher and then his hand reached for me and he turned over.
His cock was harder than before, the sight of it distracting me from what I started to do to his legs, working his calf and then his thigh.
Then I gave in. I traced a finger up the length of his cock. His hand went to my arse and down. The white coat hit a bit above the knee and before I’d considered the logistics of it, Liam moved his hand up and under.
