The Rub Down
Authors: Gina Sheldon
THE RUB DOWN
BY GINA SHELDON
Published by Gina Sheldon
Copyrigh
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© 2015 Gina Sheldon
Cover desig
n
© Melissa Gill by MG Books Designs
Edited by
Kathryn McNeill Crane
Proofread by Julie Deaton, Author Services
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, store in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the autho
r’
s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is no authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
On Monday morning, the sun rose over Boston, the sunlight glistened off the State House Dome. In the Common, in the Public Garden, spring was in bloom.
On this Patriots’ Day, like so many before, fans jumped onto the T to see the Sox at Fenway. In Hopkinton, runners laced up their shoes and set out on a 26.2-mile test of dedication and grit and the human spirit. And across this city, hundreds of thousands of Bostonians lined the streets to hand the runners cups of water and to cheer them on.
It was a beautiful day to be in Boston, a day that explains why a poet once wrote that this town is not just a capital, not just a place. Boston, he said, is the perfect state of grace.
And then, in an instant, the day’s beauty was shattered. A celebration became a tragedy. And so we come together to pray and mourn and measure our loss, but we also come together today to reclaim that state of grace, to reaffirm that the spirit of this city is undaunted and the spirit of this country shall remain undimmed.
~President Barak Obama, 44
th
President of The United States of America~
Crisp white linens covered Tamlyn’s spread limbs, and soft candlelight cast shadows across her features.
“Harder, Luke, harder. You know I love when you’re rough with me.” She squirmed under my touch, her voice drowning out the soft background music. After two years in our relationship, I was accustomed to her giving me directions.
“Tamlyn, you know I’ll bruise you if I go at you any harder, and you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.” I spoke in a low, even tone, trying not to disrupt our rhythm. Every stroke of my fingers on her bare skin served a specific purpose. Tamlyn liked it hard and fast, but I preferred giving it to her gentle and slow.
“Right now, I don’t care. My body needs this. Needs you. Danny can’t give me what I need anymore.” She opened her eyes to peer up at me. “I’m too used to how you make me feel.”
“Oh, stop, Tam. You and I both know that Danny’s good. I’ve never heard a woman complain about him.” My hands glided over her smooth calves. “His style’s different from mine, but he knows how to get results.”
Tamlyn wasn’t the first woman Danny and I had shared. In fact, we often swapped clients. In our line of business, it was common practice. We thought it was beneficial to the women who came to us.
“I know, but you know my needs, and meet them every. Single. Time I see you.” She moaned when I gripped her hips. “I hate when you have to leave town. I seriously can’t survive without seeing you at least once a week.” Tamlyn tilted her hips to increase pressure right where she wanted me. “I even asked my husband, and you know I hate doing that. He tries his very best to do exactly what you taught him, but I swear I only moan so his feelings aren’t hurt.”
“Derek looked like he knew what he was doing when I showed him how to take care of you.”
A few months ago, Tamlyn brought her husband to see me. She wanted him trained to satisfy her body’s needs in my absence.
“Now hush, our time’s almost up, and I’m not through with you yet. I haven’t heard you scream my name,” I said as I moved into position to finish her off.
To gain better leverage for what I planned next, I placed my knee on the edge of the table. As my fingers trailed her inner thighs, Tamlyn squirmed beneath me. This was my favorite part, and I was going to make sure she enjoyed every second of it. As I reached my destination, her moans grew louder.
Then the door to the room slammed against the wall.
“You cheating bastard.” My girlfriend, Jennie, stood in the doorway, red-faced and screaming at the top of her lungs. Before her crazed presence registered in my mind, she lunged for Tamlyn.
All hell broke loose.
Luke
My alarm went off at the ungodly hour of six o’clock. Yesterday was a fucking nightmare, and exhaustion still dragged at me.
All the women I saw left happy, but one, Jennie, my girlfriend of four months. To say she overreacted and caused a scene would be an understatement. Thankfully, I prevented her from ripping Tamlyn’s hair out when she went after her. The whole time, Tamlyn sat on the table, clenching the sheet to her chest, with her mouth wide open in complete shock. I was mortified by Jennie’s actions.
I grabbed Jennie by the arm, dragged her out of the treatment room, and hauled her to my office.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I yelled once I closed the door.
“I should be asking you that question. I heard that bitch’s moans from down the hall. What were you doing in there?” Jennie screamed as she paced around the small space.
“I was doing my job, Jennie. You know I’m a massage therapist.” I ran my palms down my face in frustration, angry I had to have this conversation with her again.
“You’re a business owner.” Jennie narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “Pay someone else to feel up the lonely women.”
“I don’t have time for your petty jealousy. If you don’t like my career, then we are through.” Fighting the urge to wring her scrawny neck, I sat down at my desk. “You know what, forget I said that. I don’t care if you like my job or not, we’re done. Get out of my spa, and don’t call me again.”
“But… Luke,” Jennie whined, her face flushed.
“My mind’s made up. Please leave.” I pointed at the door.
“You’re an asshole.” She headed for the door, but stopped to look over her shoulder. “Plus, you suck in bed.”
“Says the girl who came three times from my tongue alone. Good luck finding someone else who can do that.” I swiveled my chair around, ending the conversation.
“Go fuck yourself.” Jennie slammed the door so hard, my diplomas rattled on the wall.
Leaving the memory of yesterday behind in the wrinkled sheets, I stretched my arms above my head. My tight muscles were not nearly as limber as I needed them to be. Eight clients yesterday proved to be too much. After being in Philadelphia for a week, Jessica, my little sister and spa manager, overbooked my first day back in Boston.
We were opening a new location in Philly, and every few weeks I flew there to check the construction progress. The female clientele bitched about my lengthy absence and demanded I see them first thing. My partner and I needed to chat about him traveling down there every so often to help.
After Danny and I graduated from college and finished our degree in massage therapy, we opened The Rub Down. The name sounded hideous, suggestive, and, some even thought, crude, but we were twenty-two years old. What else do men at that age think about besides having their hands all over women or, even better, women’s hands on them? Despite the name, we earned our reputation as the premier spa in Boston for women and men to refresh and relax.
Our first location was a small space in Downtown Crossing, near the old Filene’s Department store building, but soon after, we relocated to prime real estate on Newbury Street. The move provided a bigger space so we could offer services like facials, nails, and yoga classes.
Every person we hired was at the top of the field. We refused to settle for people who went to massage school for shits and giggles, and accepted only the best. Another thing that separated us from most other spas was our practice of hiring only male massage therapists. Nothing against women, but during their auditions, none made my regular clients moan and scream. My philosophy was simple. My therapists needed to be skilled enough to bring every customer close to orgasm. In fact, I caused one a time or two over the years. Kneading, stroking, and massaging the body should feel as good as when a lover was deep inside you. A client should be completely relaxed and in the moment.
Another reason for no female therapists? The drama women brought into a work environment. Case in point: Jennie. Granted, she wasn’t an employee, but still.
Changing locations forced me to make an exception to my no-women rule when it came time to hire estheticians. Talented men in that field were nonexistent. Plus, my lawyer informed me I would get my ass sued if I didn’t, and was surprised we hadn’t had a case against us already. So, I hired Elle, another one of my gorgeous sisters, to handle the drama. She knew my tolerance for bullshit stayed at zero. Elle and Jessica suffered more than their fair share of my wrath, thanks to the female cattiness, but since beating my employees was unacceptable, my sisters dealt with the mess for me.
*****
Later that morning, as I walked into the office, my phone dinged for the tenth time. Jennie’s persistence irritated the shit out of me. She wanted answers I already gave her. I was a massage therapist, and therefore needed to touch my clients. The way Jennie saw it was since I owned the spa, I didn’t need to give women what was supposed to be all hers—my hands. Telling her to get over it, because I loved what I did, apparently wasn’t a good enough answer. Taking a broken body and helping it heal with just my touch and skill was a passion of mine. And I wasn’t giving it up for Jennie or anyone, for that matter.
Having spent the last two hours dealing with her, I ignored her latest text and turned my attention to business. The melting snow,
thank fuck
, meant spring was on its way. Granted, we lived in New England, so a late season storm could still hit us. When the weather warmed up, Newbury Street, our own Rodeo Drive, came alive. Exclusive stores, like Chanel, Burberry, Armani, and Dorfman, lined the streets, as well as high-end restaurants. Parking was a bitch, but I lived on the T, our subway system, which brought me just a few blocks from The Rub Down.
The first thing I saw when I entered our office was my partner’s six-foot-two-inch frame crammed in a chair, his feet propped on the desk, and phone in his paws, more than likely playing a stupid game. I wasn’t one for pleasantries that morning, and Danny, with his laidback personality and warped sense of humor, didn’t do them anyway.
“Have you started the payroll yet? Do you have a lot on your schedule today?” I fired off my questions without giving him time to respond. “We have a ton to talk about. And if you haven’t noticed, I’m in a piss-ass mood this morning.”
Danny was my best friend, and what made him a great business partner was his ability to look ahead. He was the ideas guy, and I was the implementer. After years together, we worked seamlessly.
“Does your shitty mood have anything to do with Jennie barging in on you and Tamlyn?” Danny asked, giving me a cheesy wink. He knew I hated drama and found way too much joy in my misery.
“No. Give me a break.” Having to explain this pissed me off. “Jennie was just passing time. I think she liked my success and my cock more than me anyway,” I said as I settled into my chair across from Danny. “I actually need to send Tamlyn flowers to apologize for having her session so dramatically interrupted. She looked horrified. Poor woman.” I felt worse for Tamlyn than I did for Jennie.
Changing the topic, I dove right to the heart of my mood. “We need to talk about Philly. The site looks great. The contractors are moving along on schedule, but I can’t be the only one that goes down to check on them.” I paused, making sure he paid attention as I asked my next question. He needed to see how serious I was. “Is there any way you can go in a few weeks? I have a new client starting today. She’s training for the marathon, and Jeff wanted me specifically to handle her.”
Jeff, a friend of ours from college, was a personal trainer who specialized in marathons. Boston’s was coming up soon, so the final push was on.
“I guess. But, dude, you know I hate to fly. I’m going to drive, which means I will be out of the spa longer,” Danny complained.
I rolled my eyes and chuckled at his answer. Known for doing tons of scary, adventurous shit, he was scared to fly. Last year alone, he went zip lining in St Thomas, white water rafting in Maine, and hiked up and then skied down Tuckerman’s Ravine on Mount Washington. But never ask him about his fear, or he would go on and on about how he couldn’t wrap his brain around a tin can in the air. When he drank, I liked to bring it up because his bit about people shitting in the bathroom of said tin can was priceless. He thought when they flushed the toilet, shit dumped out of the airplane and landed on the people below.
“I could care less how long it takes you, man. My clients are complaining about me being gone so much.” I spread my arms and puffed my chest out to go with the shit-eating grin on my face. “What can I say? They miss me.”
Danny knew I wasn’t really full of myself, but it made him nuts when I acted like I was. I only had sisters, so he was like a brother to me. The poor guy was an only child, so he missed out on all the razzing growing up. It was my duty to push his buttons from time to time.
*****
Jeff’s trainee arrived right on time for her eleven o’clock appointment. With sports massage clients, I preferred to consult with them before they shed their robe and lay naked in front of me.
I met Alexa Williams in our Zen room located off the locker room. It was one of my favorite places in the whole spa. With soft music and low lighting, its light pinks with ivory accents complemented the color scheme throughout, or at least the designer thought so. Whatever it was, it was calming and really set the mood for any treatment. The ambiance alone could relieve stress, and I loved to decompress in there after a long day. Zen was a perfect name for it.
After I called her name, Alexa stood, and what I saw blew me away. Her body was killer. She was tall, maybe five-foot-seven, with a skinny little waist I could span with my hands cinched by the robe’s belt. God bless Jessica for choosing the knee length robes. An image of her long, toned legs wrapped around me popped into my head. They were muscular, but not bulky. The right amount of curve graced her calf muscles, and in a pair of high heels, she would be any man’s wet dream. Long, blonde hair covered what I thought was one of the sexiest parts of the female form. Her neck. Another favorite part for me was the small of a woman’s back. When I was younger, my friends laughed at me when we were out picking up women. I looked at those body parts while they checked out the tits and ass. While not typical buzz zones, a sexy woman’s neck or back could make me hard faster than a set of big tits any day.
“Hello, Alexa.” I held out my hand to shake hers. “I’m Luke, your therapist, and I also own the place.” Why I threw in the owner part was a mystery to me, but I guessed I wanted to impress her. When she took my proffered hand, I noticed how delicate hers fit in mine. “Let’s have a quick chat about your training. Jeff and I already discussed some of it, but I want to know where you’re experiencing pain and soreness and how you feel about the training so far.” With a hand on her back, I led her out of the Zen room. “Then we can get started on making your body feel better. Sound good?” Giving her my thousand-watt smile, I hoped I could dazzle her and put her at ease.
Fuck, I’m trying to impress her.
When she returned a bright smile, I was thrilled. “How much water have you had so far today?”
“Probably not enough.” Alexa frowned, avoiding my gaze as if she was in trouble with her teacher.
“Ok, let’s grab you a cup and head to the treatment room. We want you as relaxed as possible before we begin.”
Marathon trainees required about an ounce of water per pound each day. It was even more important to stay hydrated since she was about to get a massage. Some researchers claimed massage released toxins into the body, so the kidneys needed extra water to help flush them.
“Sounds great. Thank you for taking me on as a client.” Alexa’s voice was confident, and she seemed sure of herself. “I’m excited to get my achy muscles some much-needed attention. I’ve been so sore these last few weeks.” As she spoke, she pressed the heel of her hand into her right thigh.
“Jeff tells me you’re fairly new to marathons. Which charity are you running for?” I asked once we entered the treatment room.
Runners from all over the world flew in to run The Boston Marathon, the world’s oldest annual footrace, and only those who qualified one of two ways could participate. One method was performance time based, and consisted of mainly career marathoners. Based on Jeff’s rundown of Alexa’s training, I knew she wasn’t one of those. The other way was to run for a charity, but fundraising requirements were high, so being accepted was an immense honor.
“Boston Children’s Hospital.” Her eyes lit up, and a small smile curved her lips. “It’s a wonderful cause, and I’m excited to raise money for them again.” Alexa’s pride showed in her face.
“Tell me about your training.” I propped my hip against the counter, giving her my undivided attention while she sat on the table.
“So far my training’s been great. I’m up to about thirty miles a week. Trust me, my calves let me know after every run.” She laughed, but I caught a grimace of pain before she shrugged it off. “My shoulders are tight from the stress of training and everyday life. I’m dying for your hands to make me feel good.” The cutest wash of pink flushed her stunning face, and she looked down at the floor, trying to hide her embarrassment.
“Have you had a sports massage before?” I asked, bringing her back to the conversation, and putting her at ease with a smile.