The
Towel is a Clumsy Metaphor�
By Chris
Warner
This story is written by Chris Warner, and
all copyright and other rights of authorship are retained. It is for ADULTS
ONLY and contains sexual material. If you are under 18 years old and/or are
offended by sexual material, please stop viewing this page NOW. Readers are
permitted to keep a copy for their own personal reference, but this story must
not be reposted or in any other way distributed, in any form, without the
express permission of the author via the e-mail address given.
*******
When I moved back
to New Zealand and started looking for a place to live I got in touch with my
old friend Chrissy.� Chrissy had been an
acquaintance in high school who had become a close friend at University where
she had done physiotherapy while I had gone into nursing.� After University we had both gone overseas
but had staying in touch on Facebook, so I knew she had moved back to our home
town just a few months before me.
�
�You should move
in with me!� said Chrissy.� �The other
room is empty because Robin has just driven away yet another flatmate.�� Robin was a postgraduate student who owned
the house where Chrissy lived.� He had
inherited it from an uncle and he lived off the rent of his two spare
rooms.� Unfortunately for Robin, he was
in the habit of quickly losing flatmates due to his lack of personality.� He was one of those intellectual types with
no grasp of the real world and no social skills.� He was probably somewhere on the Autistic
spectrum.� We presumed he was
heterosexual but it was difficult to tell because both men and women spurned
him with equal intensity.� Chrissy coped
with him because she found it easier than most just to laugh at him, but she
was looking forward to having another ally in the house.
�
In truth none of
us saw much of each other.� I was working
shifts at the hospital and Robin was often at the university, but I was
surprised that Chrissy often worked in the evenings as well, which was unusual
for a physiotherapist.� She didn�t talk
much about her job, and I only knew she worked on the corner of Key Road and
English Street because I happened to overhear her ordering a taxi one day when
her car wasn�t working.� The only other
thing I knew was that it wasn�t a high-tech place because one day when I had
commented about the physio equipment at my work she had said that her job was
mostly hands on stuff.
�
One day when I
got home from a morning shift at work I found Robin in a real flap about a
letter from his insurance company.� They
were threatening to put up his contents insurance premiums unless he and his
tenants all signed declarations that we didn�t have criminal convictions.� Typically for Robin, he seemed to think this
needed to be done before the end of the day so he insisted that we go visit
Chrissy at work.� We drove to the corner
of Key and English and there spotted a medical centre that advertised a
physiotherapist.� We went in and asked
the receptionist if we could see Chrissy.
�
�I�m sorry,� said
the receptionist.� �We�ve got nobody here
by that name.�
�
�I think you want
the house over the road,� said a nurse that was standing nearby.� �I�m pretty sure there�s a Chrissy working
there.�
�
Robin and I
crossed the road in some confusion.� The
house had no sign out front, and it was only when we got to the entrance that
we saw a small brass plate saying �Tender Touch - Massage�. The front door
opened into a lavishly decorated lobby and reception area.� There were leather couches and ornate lamps,
and on the walls were prints of famous paintings, which I happened to notice
were all nudes.� On the wall behind the
receptionist was a copy of The Fallen Madonna by Van Klomp.
�
�Can I help you?�
asked the receptionist.
�
�Yes,� I
said.� �We need to see Chrissy.�
�
�Both of you?�
asked the receptionist.� �Do you have an
appointment?�
�
�No,� I
said.� �We�re her friends.�
�
�I presumed that
since you knew her real name, but I still can�t let you through unless you pay
for a massage.�
�
I was about to
argue with her, to say that it was stupid to ask us to buy a massage when all
we wanted was Chrissy�s signature on a document, but suddenly the idea of a
massage sounded great to me.� I'd had a
hard day at work and then this stuff with Robin had made me unnecessarily
stressed.� I�d had lots of massages in
America and I had missed them since coming home.� Sure, it would be weird to have Chrissy do
it, but once the idea was in my head I couldn�t shake it.� �Ok,� I said.
�
As I pulled out
my credit card I was vaguely aware of the receptionist talking about a special
couples rate, but if she mentioned the cost I certainly wasn�t paying attention
because at that moment I was distracted by the sight of a young woman walking
down the corridor behind the reception desk wearing nothing but a corset and a g-string.� My mind
spun for a moment before I suddenly blurted out �Is this a brothel?�
�
�No, it most
certainly is not!� said the receptionist as she processed my payment.� �This establishment specialises in sensual
massage, but there is most definitely no sex!��
She seemed so affronted that I didn�t know what to say in response, so
Robin and I followed her meekly down the corridor and into a luxurious room
containing two comfortable massage tables that were as big as beds.� She handed us each a towel.� �If you want to start with a shower it�s
through that door there.� Otherwise just
strip down and make yourselves comfortable.�
Roxy, I mean Chrissy, will be with you shortly.�
�
�Cool!� said
Robin.� I watched in horror as he started
unbuttoning his shirt.� Despite the warm
day he was wearing a singlet underneath.�
�How does this work?� he asked.�
�Should I take off my shorts too?�
�
�Of course,� said
the receptionist.� �You don�t want
anything to get in the way of your massage.��
Robin hesitated a while before deciding to wrap the towel around his
waist.� Reaching up under the towel he
pulled down his shorts.� Then he lay
himself face down on the nearest bed.
�
�Hold on a
minute!� I protested.� �Do I have to have
my massage in the same room as him?�
�
The receptionist
looked confused.� �Sorry?� Is something wrong?� You did pay for the couples deal.�� When I protested that I hadn�t understood she
was apologetic.� �I could change it to
two singles if you want, but you would have to come back later because all our
single rooms are booked.�
�
I was
disappointed, but since I had come so far I was reluctant to back out now.� The only problem was how to strip off my
clothes and get under the towel without losing my dignity in front of
Robin.� I thought about it for a moment
and decided that the best I could hope for was to pretend to do it with
confidence.� I was still wearing my white
nurse�s uniform, which necessitated wearing plain white underwear underneath,
so I tried to convince myself that it wouldn�t be any worse than being in my
swimsuit � not that I would want Robin to see me in my swimsuit.� I turned to one side so that I wasn�t facing
him, but trying not to look as if I was deliberately trying to hide myself, and
I started to unbutton my dress.
�
I could see Robin
leering at me from where he was lying, but thankfully I was rescued by the
receptionist who had focussed her attention on him.� �Sir, I don�t think you understand.� You won�t want to have any clothing getting in
the way of your massage.� Here, let me
help you.�� With that the receptionist
grabbed the bottom of his singlet and yanked it up over Robin�s head.� I used the distraction to quickly pull off my
dress and jump face down on the massage table, pulling my towel over me.� I felt the bottom of the towel resting on my
upper thighs just below my panties, and in this position the towel only just
covered my main bra strap, leaving my shoulder straps exposed.
�
Robin, meanwhile,
was still receiving unwanted attention from the receptionist.� �It would be better if sir didn�t have his
underpants on either,� she said.� With
practiced skill she reached up under his towel and yanked down his plain white
briefs.� The startled look on his face
almost made me laugh, but my good humour faded away when her attention was
focussed on me.� �How about I get that
bra for you?� she said, and immediately I felt her hand pull down the top of my
towel slightly until she could unfasten my bra strap.� She slipped the shoulder straps off my arms
and pulled the garment out from underneath me while I worked hard at keeping
myself concealed from Robin.� Then, just
as he had, I felt her hands reaching up under the towel and pulling down my
panties.� I was soon just as naked as
Robin was underneath my towel.� �Roxy and
Cutie will be with you shortly,� said the receptionist as she departed the
room.
�
Several minutes
of awkward silence followed until the door opened again and we saw Chrissy
enter the room.� �Robin!� she exclaimed
in surprise mingled with horror, seeing him first.� Then she spotted me.� �Jo!�
What are you guys doing here?�� I
could see her blushing, which was something of a surprise since she is normally
so self assured.� Her embarrassment
probably had something to do with the fact she was wearing just her bra and
panties with black stockings held in place by a garter belt.� This obviously wasn�t your typical
physiotherapy job.
�
�It�s a long
story,� I said.� �We came to get you to
sign something for Robin�s insurance, and it seems that we�ve now signed up for
some sort of couple massage.�
�
�Really?� said
Chrissy with a grin.� �Do you even know
what that is?�
�
�No,� I
said.� �All I know is that I have to have
my massage in the same room as Robin.�
The receptionist mentioned that someone named Cutie would also be
joining us.�
�
�I�m Cutie,� said
a woman who at that moment came into the room.�
She was young and certainly cute, and the surprising thing about her was
that all she was wearing were black French-cut knickers.� Her small but perfect breasts were on display
for all to see.� �Which one is mine?� she
asked.
�
�You take the
guy,� said Chrissy.� �I�ll take the
girl.�
�
�Hey!� protested
Robin.� �Why don�t I get to chose?�
�
Chrissy
smiled.� �Did you pay for this?� she
asked.� Robin�s silence told her all she
needed to know.� �Then unless Jo has any
objections we�ll get Cutie to give you your massage.�
�
As much as it
felt weird to have my half-dressed friend give me a massage, I was keen to have
her to myself, keen to find out from her how I came to find her working here
instead of the medical practice over the road.�
All my questions piled up unasked however as we lapsed into an awkward
silence.� Chrissy poured some oil onto my
shoulders and back while Cutie did the same to Robin.� It was Chrissy who broke the silence when she
gently pulled my towel down to my waist, leaving me to cover the sides of my
boobs as best I could with my arms.� �So
did you guys really get naked in front of each other?� she giggled.
�
�No, the receptionist
took our underwear off after we lay down on the table.� So I take it that you treat all your
customers while they are in the nude?�
�
�Yep,� said
Chrissy.� �It�s mostly men.� I don�t often get to give a woman a massage.�
�
We lapsed into
another silence.� Chrissy was doing an
amazing job on my back and shoulders, and I could hear Robin moaning in
response to the workout he was getting from Cutie.� Looking across at him I saw Cutie leaving his
upper body and move down to work on his calves and thighs.� A minute later Chrissy was doing the same to
me.� Thankfully from where Robin was he
wouldn�t have the chance to see anything, but I felt very exposed to Chrissy as
she massaged my legs.� I felt sure that
she would be able to see everything with only a glance up under the hem of the
towel.� My feeling of exposure increased
when Chrissy started extending her strokes under the towel, reaching up and
over my buttocks. I knew this wasn�t too unusual as some of the massages I had
received in America had included my buttocks, but on those occasions the
masseuse had pulled the towel down onto the top of my thighs so that it still
concealed my pussy while a second towel covered my top half.� Here, with Chrissy�s hands going underneath
my one towel from below, I was sure she would be able to see my most intimate
place.
�
After a while
Chrissy told me to roll over onto my back.�
I carefully pulled the towel up before I rolled over so that it was
covering my breasts.� I was all the more
conscious that in this position the towel only just reached past my pussy.� A moment later Cutie asked Robin to roll over
too, and the first thing I noticed was an obvious bulge in his towel.� There was no concealing the fact that he had
an erection.� I looked at Cutie and
Chrissy to see what their reactions would be, but they seemed to regard this as
nothing out of the ordinary.� I couldn�t
help asking the question that was still weighing heavily on my mind.� �Are you sure this isn�t a brothel?� I know that receptionist said it wasn�t, but
it certainly isn�t a physio practice.�
�
Chrissy gave me a
slightly awkward smile.� �No, this isn�t
a brothel,� she said.� �We just give
sensual massages.� There is never any sex
involved.� Just relax.� I�m sure you�ll like it.�
�
I was still a bit
troubled, but I decided just to accept Chrissy�s advice and relax.� I could certainly feel the tension of the day
ebbing away from me.� I could feel
Chrissy�s hands on my thighs, with her fingers going surprisingly close to my
pussy, and as I lay there staring at the ceiling I couldn�t help but be
reminded of my last boyfriend in Oregon, nearly eight months ago.� Unfortunately he was always too quick to take
things further than the sensuous touch I was receiving now, and instead of
reaching any sort of satisfaction I was too often left frustrated while my
boyfriend satisfied his own needs.� Now,
however, Chrissy was taking her time with my massage, and I was shocked to find
myself becoming turned on as I fantasised about receiving the satisfaction that
I had previously missed out on.� As I
became aroused part of me was starting to worry that my wetness or my scent
would become obvious to my friend, but there was no part of me that wanted to
stop what was happening to me.
�
I nearly groaned
in frustration when Chrissy�s hands left my thighs.� I quickly glanced over at Robin and saw that
Cutie was now massaging his chest, including focussing a fair amount of
attention on his nipples.� His erection
was still creating a veritable tent in the towel covering his groin.� I saw that he was mainly looking at Cutie, or
more specifically her breasts, but every so often he would look over at
me.� He looked disappointed whenever he
saw that my towel was still covering all my intimate places.� This was soon to change.� Chrissy had moved herself up to my chest and
after spending a few minutes massaging the front of my shoulders she gently
started pulling my towel down.� With
lightening speed I grabbed it just before my breasts were exposed.� �Chrissy!�
�
�Don�t worry
about Robin,� said Chrissy.� �Listen to
what your body wants.� You have to admit
that it feels good, doesn�t it?�
�
�I can�t,� I
pleaded.
�
�Would it help if
I went first?� she asked.� Then, without
waiting for my answer, Chrissy reached behind her and quickly unfastened her
bra.� Her breasts spilled out as she
dropped her bra on the floor.� I waited
for Robin to say something, but he was watching with what seemed to be
reverential silence.� My heart was
thumping in my chest as yet again Chrissy started pulling the towel down from
my breasts.� This time I didn�t have the
willpower to stop her.� My body was
overruling my brain.� My feeling of shame
was overshadowed by something else, something more primitive, as I allowed her
to expose me.
�
Robin leered as
my breasts came into view, but my embarrassment was overridden by pleasure as
Chrissy started massaging them.� I tried
to reason with myself that I was just receiving a normal massage from Chrissy,
who after all was a trained physiotherapist, but there was no hiding the fact
that I was allowing my closest female friend to rub my boobs while she was
topless herself.� I was astonished by how
the needs of my body had overcome the reservations of my mind.
�
There was just a
small part of my brain that was trying to make sense of what was
happening.� �Why do you get us to cover
ourselves with a towel if it doesn�t stop you from touching what�s underneath?�
I asked.
�
�Ah, the towel,�
said Chrissy with a smile.� �Our secret
weapon.� A lot of people think the towel
is there for the client�s benefit, to help them feel in control, but in reality
the towel is there for my benefit.� By
carefully manipulating the towel I slowly take control of the situation until
the client is putty in my hands.� The
towel may start off being a physical barrier to protect their modesty, but in
the end it is a psychological barrier that keeps me separate from the
client.� They know that I�m in
control.� They may want me, but they
can�t have me.�
�
�So what�s the
deal with the lingerie and the boobs and the �sensual� massage?� I asked.� �If this isn�t a brothel then why do people
pay to get turned on if you just leave them frustrated?�
�
�Are you turned
on?� Chrissy asked with a cheeky grin.
�
�Answer the
question!�
�
Chrissy�s grin
faded and was replaced by that uncharacteristic blush again.� �Actually,� she said, �they don�t go away
frustrated.� Although we don�t do sex, we
do supply happy endings.�
�
�What do you mean
by that?�
�
�Sometimes we
call it �sensual hand relief,�� she replied.�
�Look!�� I looked over at Cutie
and Robin and my eyes were greeted with the unmistakable sight of her hand
beneath his towel jerking him off.� He
was staring up at the ceiling in a state of stunned excitement.� I�m sure he never expected his day to turn
out like this, and I wondered if he�d ever been touched that way before.
However, Robin wasn�t the only one to experience a first that day.� A moment later I felt Chrissy�s hand slide
over my thigh and begin to explore my most private place. �I knew I should stop her, but I didn�t.� I was turned on and Chrissy knew it.� Even Robin had probably worked that out by
now. As Chrissy�s fingers found my clitoris I was longing for my own happy
ending.
�
Despite what was
happening, or maybe because of it since there was now this new and unexpected
connection happening between Chrissy and me, I was still curious to discover
more about this hidden lifestyle of hers.�
�I could never work out why you had so much underwear to wash when you
did your laundry but you never washed a work uniform.� I guess the lingerie helps to get the guys
off.� I�m sure you wouldn�t get any
complaints.�
�
�The tricky part
is the timing,� said Chrissy.� �If it
happens too soon the client feels ripped off, but if it takes too long you go
over time and it mucks up the scheduling.�
�
�So does every
massage here end in a happy ending?�
�
�Are you hoping
to get one?�� Chrissy asked in
response.� Such a direct question!� She seemed determined to have me admit that I
was enjoying this.� There was no avoiding
giving either a yes or no answer.� The
answer seemed to come straight from my vagina.�
�Yes,� I whispered.
�
Chrissy smiled
and carried on talking in a relaxed conversational tone.� �To answer your question, most massages here
have a happy ending apart from one important exception.� That exception is our couples massage.� As the name implies, people who pay for our
couples massage are usually couples, and what they get is just the massage to
get them in the mood followed by time alone in the room to spend together.�
�
�Time�s up!�
announced Cutie.
�
Cutie stepped
away from Robin and stood near the door to wait for Chrissy.� Robin protested aloud his frustration with
being left unsatisfied, so only Chrissy heard my own groan.� She leaned down and whispered softly in my
ear.� �I have to go now,� she said, �but
if you�re interested we can continue this at home without the towel.�� A moment later she and Cutie were gone,
leaving me alone with Robin.
�
Robin looked over
at me with unconcealed lust.� �Fancy a
root?� he asked.
�
�Get lost!� I
said.� �There�s no way I�m going to let
you touch me!�
�
�Why not?� You let Chrissy touch you.�
�
�That�s
different!�
�
�How is it
different?�
�
Apart from the
obvious fact that Robin was repulsive, that wasn�t an easy question to
answer.� What had caused me to allow my
friend to finger me almost to orgasm?�
I�d had plenty of massages from women before but I had never responded
like I had today.� Was I interested in
her suggestion that we pick up this evening where we left off � only this time
without the towel?��� Chrissy had told me
that for her the towel was about keeping control and keeping herself separate
from her clients.� For me the towel
represented the boundary around my own heterosexuality � a line that was
certainly crossed today.� Was I bisexual
or lesbian?� This isn�t a question that I
would be able to answer in a hurry, but one thing was certain � when Chrissy
got home from work that evening and found me waiting naked in her bed, there
was no towel in sight.
�
The
End
September 2012
�