Dangerous Pleasures (6 page)

“You are very good at your job,” she told him with a smile, and then she took a sip of the juice. It was delicious, and very refreshing.

“Thanks,” he told her. “When the girls are finished we’ll do your massage, and then your facial last. You’ll have some time to rest before dinner.”

Mei massaged her hands until Annie was almost purring. “No polish for you until you go home,” the manicurist said. “You got pretty hands, and now look good.”

Pei finished up with Annie’s feet, and Annie thought they had never felt so good. The two young women packed up the tools of their trade and hurried from the room, passing a tall and muscular man with a brush cut who was entering as they left.

“This is Lars,” Devyn said. “He’ll be doing your massage.”

“A
man?”
Annie’s voice squeaked.

“Massage is my profession, Mrs. Miller,” Lars said quietly. “Men, women—a body is a body.” He unfolded a large padded table, fitted a face cradle at one end, and flipped over it a silk sheet he took from a small cupboard in the room. He set a large pink towel at the foot of the table. “Take off your robe and roll your panties down to make a bikini bottom. Then get facedown on the table. I’ll wait outside until you’re ready.”

“I’ll go back up to the suite, Annie,” Devyn said. “I’ll see that your garments are pressed immediately so you’re all ready for tonight.”

The two men left the room. Annie slowly unbelted her soft full-length terry robe, and laid it aside. Carefully she rolled her briefs down to the required formation and, reaching for the towel, climbed onto the table. She placed the towel over herself as best she could. She was about to get her first massage. And by a man. She hadn’t been touched by a man since Nat died. What if she got aroused? Then she laughed softly at herself. Lars wasn’t likely to know if she creamed her pants.

There was a knock on the door, and the masseur’s voice called out, “Are you ready, Mrs. Miller?”

“Yes, I am,” Annie said back, and she heard the door open and close again.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked her. “Face cradle adjusted all right?”

“I’m fine,” Annie told him.

“Your skin is a little dry,” he noted. “I’m going to use almond oil on it.” She heard him uncork something, and then the sound of hands rubbing together. The hands slid strongly up one side of her back and then the other. “And you’re tense. Let me guess. You’ve never had a massage before. Try to relax, Mrs. Miller. I’m really very good at what I do.” His fingers dug gently into her shoulders.

She tried to take his advice. His voice was impersonal, professional. He wasn’t here to seduce her. His job was to massage her and help her to let go of her tensions. The Spa wasn’t a hotbed of licentiousness. It was a place to renew her body, her mind, and her spirit. Nat would fully approve. For the first time in her life she was free for eight days and seven nights from children, pets, and making meals. She had better make the most of it, because God only knew when she would have such pampering and luxury again. Annie drew a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh.

“That’s it!” Lars said enthusiastically. “Let that stress go, Mrs. Miller.”

“Do I get a massage every day I’m here?” Annie asked him as he worked.

“Twice a day if you want,” Lars told her. “I’ve been assigned to you and you alone for your stay, Mrs. Miller.”

“Annie, please. I may have five kids, but ‘Mrs. Miller’ makes me sound so old,” she told him. God, she was being touched by a strange man, and she was really beginning to enjoy it. It felt so good to be touched again by someone who wasn’t hanging on her leg whining, or nursing on her breasts. Not that Nat had ever massaged her like this, but still, it did feel good. Very, very good.

He chuckled. “Five kids, huh? Well, if it wouldn’t offend you, I have to say you’re in great shape for a lady with five kids.”

“I’m overweight,” Annie answered him.

“You won’t be by the time you leave here,” he told her. “Five or six pounds is all you need to lose. You’re a big-boned woman.”

“Like my dad,” Annie said ruefully. “My sister is like mom, and she’s half my size.”

“Genetics,” Lars replied. “It’ll get you every time. I’d like to do your buttocks, if it wouldn’t freak you out. The glutes can always use a little loosening up.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Annie said, nervous again.

“No problem! I’ll hold the towel up now, and you turn over,” Lars instructed her, and when she quickly rolled over he dropped the big towel down over her, and then, going behind Annie, he began to work on her neck and shoulders.

Annie closed her eyes and actually began to relax. Had he seen her breasts? she wondered. But then she put the thought from her mind. He hadn’t seemed to be looking, and why would he? He had told her quite plainly that massage for him was a business. The strong fingers digging into her neck and her shoulders felt wonderful. And when he was through with them he did her arms, massaging each of her hands until they felt devoid of muscle and bone. Then he moved on to to her legs and feet. Annie grew so relaxed that she actually dozed.

“Annie.”

She heard her name being called, and opened her eyes.

Lars was standing next to the massage table. “You’re through now, and I’m glad that you got a little catnap. By the time you go home we’re going to have you all loose and relaxed. And we’ll teach you how to do it at home without us.”

She sighed deeply. “That was wonderful,” she told him. “Where do I go to get my facial?”

“Janka will be right with you,” Lars told her as Annie sat up, clutching the towel to herself. “I’ll get your robe.” And when he had brought it to her Lars helped Annie into the soft garment, standing behind her so she felt more comfortable. Taking the towel back from her, he took the face cradle out and folded his table. “See you tomorrow,” he told her, and briskly departed.

At the same time an elegant woman in a white uniform dress came into the room. “Mrs. Miller? I am Janka, your facialist,” she said in an accented voice. She pushed a button on the door wall, and a panel across the room opened up, allowing a comfortable chair, much like a dentist’s chair, Annie thought, to slide out into the middle of the room.

“Please be seated, Mrs. Miller, and let us see what we have to work with today.”

As soon as Annie settled herself in the chair, Janka pushed another button and the chair was slightly elevated. Janka moved behind her, slipping a broad terry headband about her head. She then tucked a hard yet comfortable bolster beneath Annie’s neck. Two moistened cotton pads were carefully placed on her eyelids.

“Cucumber lotion,” Janka said. “It lessens the swelling. Everything I will use on your skin is natural and has been formulated without animal testing.”

“My twin daughters would appreciate that,” Annie murmured, but Janka didn’t reply. Instead a bright light was snapped on that Annie could see even from beneath her eye pads. Janka’s fingers began to move slowly and gently over Annie’s face.

“The light,” Janka explained, “is part of a large magnifying glass that allows me to see your skin closely. How old are you?”

“I’ll be forty-four in December,” Annie answered.

“Children?”

“Five,” Annie replied.

“Amazing!” Janka said. “You’ve got gorgeous skin, Mrs. Miller. It’s firm, smooth, and there isn’t a crow’s-foot in sight.
Yet.
You’re a little dry, but we can take care of that. And before you ask, because I sense it on your lips, I’m Hungarian.”

“I’ve never been to Hungary,” Annie said, for want of anything else to say.

“Not a lot of Americans have until recently. My country is beautiful, and we welcome all peoples of goodwill. And full purses,” she added, and laughed uproariously at her own humor.

Annie laughed with her, and then she settled back for the next hour as Janka creamed, steamed, massaged, creamed some more, slid hot stones over her face, and finally smeared a mask made from avocado over her skin. And when the mask was removed, Janka delicately drizzled fragrant rose oil over Annie’s face, gently rubbing it into her skin with a supple, light touch.

“I’ll see you in a few days,” she said. “And when I do I will give you some tips on how to keep that beautiful skin of yours in peak condition.”

“Thank you,” Annie said, slipping from the facial chair.

“Perfect timing!” Devyn said brightly as he entered the room and escorted her back into the corridor toward the elevator. “I’ve had all your slacks pressed, so whatever you want to wear tonight at dinner, you’ll look perfect.”

The elevator doors opened up, and they stepped inside.

“Your dinner is at eight,” Devyn continued. “I’m bringing the makeup artist and hairstylist to you at seven fifteen.”

“I don’t need a makeup artist or a hairstylist,” Annie said. “I can put on my own lipstick and brush my hair all by myself.”

The elevator doors opened again and, slipping the key card into the lock, Devyn opened the door of the suite for her. “Every woman can put on her lipstick and brush her hair,” he agreed, “but when you see what Judi and Mr. Eugene can do for you, you’ll change your mind. You nap now, and I’ll be back later, okay? I’ve turned the bed down for you.” Then with a grin he was gone.

Annie walked slowly into the bedroom. The elegant clock on the fireplace mantel struck once. Annie looked at the time-piece. Four thirty. She was starving, she suddenly realized. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast. And there on her bedside table was an individual serving bowl with a creamy pale peach something in it. Picking up the spoon, she took a mouthful. Yogurt. Freshly made yogurt, with generous bits of fresh apricot in it. “Devyn, I think I may take you home with me,” Annie said aloud as, sitting down on the bed, she ate the yogurt and sipped at the iced green tea in the glass next to the bowl.

When she had finished she swung her legs up and stretched out on the bed. It was incredibly comfortable. It had been an amazing day, Annie thought. Could she stand an entire week of such pampering? Yeah, she could, she decided as she fell asleep.

Devyn gently shook her awake at the appointed time. Together they picked a pair of fawn-colored silk slacks and a cream-colored shirt with three-quarter sleeves and a boat neckline. She dressed quickly. Mr. Eugene, the hairstylist, decided her hair would look best in a French braid. He quickly accomplished it. Judi, the makeup artist, said Annie’s beautiful skin shouldn’t be covered with too much makeup. She quickly put a light foundation on Annie, some blush, and a touch of smoky blue eye shadow to her eyelids.

“The cornrow bracelet and some turquoise earrings,” Devyn decided, handing her the pieces. “You’re gorgeous, Annie!”

Mr. Eugene and Judi murmured their agreement.

Annie turned to look in the mirror over the bureau. Was that her? She looked younger. Not tired. She did have a shape. She turned her head slightly. The makeup was so subtle it didn’t look as if she were wearing any. And she loved her hair! It was casual but elegant, pulled back from her face. “Wow!” she said. “Not bad for an old broad with five kids. Not bad at all.”

“You should look like this all the time,” Devyn told her.

“With my brood? I’m like the old woman in the shoe, kid,” Annie said, mocking herself slightly. “But I want to look like this all week so I can remember that there is an attractive woman beneath the mother and the chief cook and bottle washer.” She turned. “Thank you,” she said to Mr. Eugene and Judi.

“Gotta jet,” Devyn said. “The boss lady will be waiting for you.” He led her from her suite down the corridor and around a corner, and there was another large double rosewood door. “Ms. Buckley’s apartment,” the young man said, and rapped.

The door was opened by a smiling gentleman. He couldn’t have stood any taller than five feet, seven inches. He was impeccably dressed in a dark gray pin-striped suit with a white shirt, and a striped gray tie. His hair was beautifully styled, wavy and gray. The hand he held out to her was perfectly manicured. “Mrs. Miller? I am Mr. Nicholas, CEO of the Channel Corporation. You may go now, Devyn. I will escort our guest back to her suite after dinner.”

“Yes, sir,” Devyn said respectfully, and disappeared back down the hall.

Mr. Nicholas took her hand and, raising it to his lips, kissed it. “I may call you Annie, mayn’t I?”

“I thought I was having dinner with Ms. Buckley,” Annie said, slightly confused as Mr. Nicholas drew her into the apartment.

“You are,” Nora Buckley said, coming forward. “But Mr. Nicholas very much wanted to meet you, Annie. This spa is a brand-new undertaking for his corporation, and he’s anxious that it succeed. You’re our everywoman.”

“And how do you like it so far?” Mr. Nicholas wanted to know as he drew her to a creamy beige couch, where they sat down.

“Well,” Annie said, “I’ve only been here a few hours, but from what I’ve seen, it’s just lovely. My suite is gorgeous. And I’ve been pampered to bits all afternoon. I love it, and the thought of spending the week here is just wonderful!”

“Your PA is satisfactory?” Mr. Nicholas wanted to know.

“Devyn is a darling,” Annie enthused. “He’s just a little older than my oldest son, and he has made me feel so comfortable. When I got back from my treatments this afternoon he even had something for me to eat. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast this morning, and I was starving. I think he’s doing a terrific job!”

“I’m delighted to hear it, Annie,” Mr. Nicholas said, smiling. Then he took an aperitif from the tray a white-coated houseman was holding out and offered it to Annie.

“Thank you,” she said, and sipped. A dry but sweet sherry, she thought.

“Have you any suggestions yet as to how we might improve our services?” Mr. Nicholas asked her casually, sipping from his own cocktail glass.

“I think my introduction into the facilities was perhaps a bit too fast,” Annie said. “Not that I haven’t enjoyed every moment so far. But I think it would have been a bit nicer if, after I was shown to my suite, I were served a light lunch before being hurried off for my various treatments. And there was no music. Relaxing music always adds to any pleasurable experience, in my opinion. But, of course, I’m no expert.”