The Appointment

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Sookie’s POV

“Hi! Can I help you?”

I smile warmly at the woman sitting behind the reception desk. “Hi. I’m Sookie Stackhouse. I have a 4:30 appointment.” A few of the other women behind the counter wave at me or say hello and I politely smile back as I wait for the receptionist in front of me to check me in. She must be new; I haven’t seen her around before and I’ve come here for months. ‘Here’ is the Fleur-dis-lies Salon and Spa, an upscale facility that offers everything from hair care to non-invasive cosmetic surgery. I started coming to this place thanks to my friend Amelia. She comes here every Tuesday to pamper herself with a full spa day. It’s a rough life living off of her parents’ money. I don’t come here for anything that extravagant. At least twice a month I treat myself to a massage because of my job. I own a bakery about ten minutes from here. I love it, but it is backbreaking work. My body takes a beating due to all the bending, lifting, and hunching over I do. The spa is my way of rewarding myself for all my hard work.

“Alright Miss Stackhouse, come with me please.” The receptionist gets up from her chair and walks to the end of the counter, waiting for me to catch up. I cross the tiled floor quickly, the heels of my boots loudly clicking. Once I reach the girl, she turns towards the door that leads to the back of the salon, holding it open for me so I can pass through the frosted glass door.

“What size shoes and robe do you need?” She is standing in front of the armoire where the staff keeps the clean robes and shoes for the patrons to use while they are inside the spa.

“Oh, no thanks darlin’. I bring my own from home,” I say patting the large purple leather Michael Kors bag thrown over my shoulder. I know they clean their robes and sanitize the shoes, but it still creeps me out to think of using “community” clothing.

“Oh. Do you come here a lot?” She smiles brightly at me as she now leads me to the door leading to the women’s lounge.

“At least twice a month; sometimes more if work gets too stressful.”

“That’s nice that you take the time to pamper yourself,” she says as she opens the door for the women’s lounge known as the Burgundy Salon.

“If I don’t, who will?”

“Very true. Enjoy your massage,” she says as I breeze past her into the Burgundy Salon, named both for the color of the walls and the region in France. The lights are muted to set a relaxing atmosphere. The furniture is plush and inviting, looking like something out of a French drawing room. Music designed to soothe plays softly through the inconspicuous sound system. A few patrons are relaxing on the couches, talking quietly among themselves or reading magazines as they sip the cool, crisp lemon water the salon provides after every treatment. I don’t have time to sit in the lounge today; I’m running a few minutes late due to the last minute order that came in today for this weekend. Who waits until four days before their wedding to order a wedding cake for one hundred and fifty guests? And then they wanted to tell me what their “vision” of the cake was? She’s lucky I didn’t ram her vision down her throat.

Hurrying back to the locker room, I set my bag on one of the available benches. Fortunately no one else is in the locker room so I shimmy out of all my clothes, including my lingerie. I fold everything up neatly and set it inside a vacant locker. Reaching into my bag, I pull out the sexy red lace boy shorts I’ll be wearing for my massage. Eric said for me to wear whatever I’m comfortable in. I’d go completely naked if I could, but I don’t want to make him uncomfortable. Well, any more uncomfortable than I already do. I always make sure to wear sexy underwear when I’m lying on his table. He gets glimpses of it when he adjusts the covers over my body to get to the different areas he massages. I know Eric appreciates my body because he’s grazed me with a certain part of his anatomy that gets excited to see me.

If only his excited part could meet with the part of me that weeps for joy while he’s touching me, we’d have a hell of a good time.

Once I’m in my underwear, robe, and flip-flops, I lock all my belongings in the locker and drop the key in the pockets of my plush navy robe. A silk robe would just scream desperate and I’m not that. Has it been nearly a year since I’ve had sex? Yes. Do I fantasize about my masseuse and wanting to fuck him until we’re both exhausted? Absolutely, but I’m not going to throw myself at him like some of the other women that come to the spa do. I respect myself far too much to be that blatant. Besides, Eric’s got the best damn hands of any masseuse I’ve ever had and I don’t want to lose that aspect of our relationship because I had an itch I wanted him to scratch.

Pulling my hair over my shoulder, I begin to braid it loosely as I make my way out of the Burgundy Salon. Since it’s the women’s lounge, Eric can’t come in there to get me when he’s ready to take me back to his room. I always meet him in the room where the armoire is. When I push through the door of the salon, I see Eric leaning against the wall waiting for me. He is without a doubt the most handsome man I have ever met in my life. Tall and lanky, but not gangly; he’s definitely got muscles and he puts them to good use when he’s working on the knots in my back and shoulders. Blond hair the same shade as mine, though his hairstyle changes depending on his mood. I’ve seen him with hair down to his shoulders and I’ve seen it cropped close to his head like a buzz cut. The way he wears it now is my favorite though; his hair looks so soft. I want to run my fingers through it or grab fistfuls while in the throes of pleasure. As usual, he is wearing all black; it’s the required wardrobe for everyone here. But he makes it look so much better than anyone else. His pants are tailored to fit his long legs perfectly and today he’s wearing a thin black sweater with a slight v. His sky blue eyes light up with pleasure when he sees me walk through the door.

“Hello beautiful,” he says in that deep voice that instantly makes my panties wet.

“Hey handsome,” I respond with a smile as I tie off the end of my braid. Eric pushes away from the wall and closes the distance between us to give me a friendly hug. I try to be discreet and inhale when I’m pressed against his chest. I still haven’t been able to place his scent; I know he’s wearing cologne but I haven’t been able to figure out which one. Whatever it is reminds me of warm days by the beach. It’s not floral or fruity smelling, but I definitely think of the ocean when I smell him.

“Are you ready?” Eric pulls back from our embrace and I reluctantly let him go. I nod my head that I’m ready and he leads me down the hallway to the room that is his massage room. I know my way around the salon fairly well, so instead of paying attention to where we are going, I stare at Eric’s perfectly sculpted ass. I don’t know when I became a connoisseur of the male backside, but Eric’s is definitely a ten out of ten. He waits beside the open door of his massage room and waits for me to go inside. Normally he would follow me inside the room to ask what my problem areas are, what fragrance I want, and tell me how to position myself on the bed. But since it’s been the same routine for months, he pulls the door closed behind me when I walk in so that I can disrobe and lie face down on the table.

Eric’s POV

I don’t usually work as a masseuse, but on the days when we are short-staffed, I’ll jump in to help. That’s how I came to meet Sookie. I filled in for Greta whose children had all come down with the flu at the same time. She’d had a full schedule of clients that Tuesday, so we didn’t want to lose out on the revenue and have to reschedule everyone. I say we because I co-own the spa. My business partner Pam and I own several salons and spas in Louisiana. I had started out as a physical therapist, which included massage therapy. Pam is trained in cosmetology. Both of us had grown weary of working for others and decided to give it a go ourselves. That was nearly a decade ago and we now have six salons in Louisiana. But I digress. Most of the clients from the day Greta called out we were able to fit in the schedules of the other two masseuses on staff that day, but there were two appointments that we couldn’t fit into their existing schedules. So I jumped in to take care of those.

Sookie had been the second appointment of the day. I’ve worked on beautiful women before and I’ve always been able to keep things professional, but there is something different about Sookie. I’d been hard pressed the day we met to keep myself from touching her inappropriately and when I’d gotten a glimpse of her tiny white thong resting against the tanned flesh of her ample backside, I’d groaned internally. Her sixty minute massage had been heaven and hell for me. I’d gotten to touch this beautiful creature intimately, hypnotized as I watched my hands caressing the smooth tanned flesh of her back and legs. During the entire time I worked on her back and legs, moans of pleasure had fallen from her lips and I swear each one of them went straight to my cock.

I was nearly crazy with lust until she’d broken the tension by giggling when I began touching her feet. She’d tried to jerk her foot out of my hands, saying she was too ticklish. Part of me had wanted to scrap a fingernail along the arch of her dainty foot to see what she would do, but I refrained. That’s when Sookie and I started talking. As I worked on her feet and then had her roll over so I could take care of the front side of her body, she told me about herself. I admired her for striking out on her own as soon as she’d finished pastry school. She had started out as a small bakery and café near her hometown of Bon Temps, a town I’d never heard of. When I had mentioned that, she’d giggled again and said most people hadn’t. Her little café had done well for itself, and two years after opening, she’d been able to expand to a second shop in Shreveport. I’ve had many a muffin and dessert from Southern Delights, and I have to say the food is scrumptious. Sookie had blushed at the compliment and thanked me.

Before we knew it, the sixty minutes were up. It’s the first time I ever remembered being disappointed when someone else’s massage was over. Before Sookie had left that day, she asked if she could schedule her next appointment in two weeks. She said that was the best massage she’d ever had. I’d told her she could make her appointment with the ladies at the front desk when she was ready to check out. After she’d slipped her robe on, Sookie had given me a hug and thanked me before disappearing in the Burgundy Salon (It was Pam’s idea to give everything a French name; said it was classy.) to use the Jacuzzi and sauna. While Sookie was occupied, I’d hurried to the front to make sure the receptionists knew to schedule her next appointment with me. To this day, Sookie still doesn’t know that I’m not one of the regular masseuses. I don’t even think she knows I co-own the place.

For eight months, Sookie has been the only client that I keep on my schedule. I’m sure the other employees gossip that something is going on between the two of us. Even Pam gives me a hard time about the fact that I only massage Sookie on a regular basis. I still fill in when needed but I refuse to take anyone else on as a regular client. And some of the women have been especially provocative when trying to get me to agree to be their regular masseuse . . . among other things.

I enjoy women, and I’ve had more than my fair share over the years. But I’m not interested in being the equivalent of the pool boy for the bored housewives that come in here to be pampered, thinking they have a rough life going from one country club luncheon to the next. Pam said that it’s bad for business that I’m refusing to help other paying customers.

I told her to fuck off. If I needed someone to tell me what to do, I would have stayed married to my ex-wife Freyda.

In the eight months Sookie has been my client, I’ve gotten to know a lot about her and everything I’ve learned makes me yearn to know more. Not to mention that she stars in all of my fantasies. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve gotten myself off thinking about her. She’s the total package: smart, funny, and beautiful.

The only thing I don’t know is how Sookie feels about me. I think she’s attracted to me; those sexy moans she makes when I have my hands on her body could be because I’m releasing the tension in her body, but I don’t think that’s the only reason. And in my imagination she wears that sexy underwear every time for me. I’ve started playing a game with myself, trying to guess what underwear she’s wearing before I remove the covers from her body. The first thing I do when I have Sookie on my table is run my hands over the back of her body while still covered. This is to help her relax and it allows me to massage all of her body, including her curvy bottom. When her skin is exposed, I keep the covers over her backside all the time. I will even fold the covers inside the waist of her bottoms to make sure I do not touch somewhere I shouldn’t. It’s so tempting to slide my fingers beneath the waist of her underwear and continue massaging her firm behind. When my hands run over the curves of her ass, that’s when I learn if my guess has been correct. Most women I know stick to one type of underwear, but Sookie likes variety. I’ve seen her in thongs, bikinis, boy shorts, and even briefs. Once I know what the style is, then my next guess is the color. I don’t know if I’ve seen her in the same pair of underwear twice.

I’d be an idiot not to want to try to advance this to an actual relationship.

So why haven’t I tried anything?

It’s been enough time to allow Sookie to assume the needed position on the massage table, so I tap my knuckles in succession three times seeking permission to enter the room. Sookie’s lilting voice calls out for me to enter the room. Sliding the door open quickly, I find Sookie lying face down on the massage table with her face resting on the face pillow. Underneath the opening of the face pillow where’s Sookie face rests, I’ve placed a few drops of eucalyptus on a cloth for her to breathe in. It helps clear the sinuses, which this time of year I know can be bothering her. As for the scent I will use on her body, Sookie prefers something fruity. She hates floral lotions and doesn’t really care for sandalwood. I’ve found a coconut mango lotion that smells absolutely divine on her. It makes me think of lying on a tropical beach, a piña colada in my hand, as I let the sun warm my skin and the sound of the ocean lulls me to sleep. Of course in this vision, Sookie is lying next to me wearing a teeny, tiny bikini that leaves nothing to the imagination.

For today’s session, Sookie has booked a ninety minute massage. Usually it’s only sixty minutes, so I wonder what’s bothering her this week.

“Rough week?” I slip my shoes off and leave them against the wall. Sookie had asked me early on if I would mind going shoeless during her massages. She’d looked at me apologetically when she said that my shoes squeezing against the floor were like nails on a chalkboard for her. I assured her I didn’t mind; after all, it bugs the hell out of me when people bite their nails. Your hands are the dirtiest part of your body. Why would you put them in your mouth?

She takes in a deep breath and sighs as she exhales. “A new client today! The bride tried to tell me her vision for her wedding cake. She said the cake is the focal point of her reception. She wants it to “wow” people when they see it.”

My hands pull the covers up so that her shoulders are covered. My hands begin rubbing up and down her back in long, soothing strokes. “What’s wrong with that?”

“The wedding is Saturday,” Sookie replies sardonically. “The bitch is lucky I agreed to take the order. I already have two cakes for Saturday and then a huge cupcake order for a local church’s Easter Sunday brunch.”

I chuckle as my hands begin gliding down her backside to her thighs. My hands don’t linger on her bottom, but from my brief foray there I can tell she is wearing boy shorts.

So far I’m one for one. I bet they are pink with little hearts or something adorable on them.

“If she has a vision for her cake, why did she wait until four days before her wedding to order it?” Sookie’s legs shift underneath the blanket as I begin kneading the muscles of her thighs and calves. I’ve never known any woman to have legs as firm and shapely as Sookie. She attributes it to all the hours spent on her feet and hefting fifty pound bags of flour and sugar all the time. Whatever it is, it’s definitely working for her. Once I have worked over her body from her shoulders to her feet, my hands begin working their way north so that we can get to the skin on skin contact. Sookie sighs again as my hands continue up her body, and I can feel her melting into the padded table. I smile with satisfaction knowing that I’m able to make her feel like this. Grasping the top of the covers that rests against her shoulders, I fold the heavy gold velvet blanket down and double it over her legs. Next I grasp the sheet and pull it back so I can tuck it in the top of her underwear.

Let’s see if I’m two for two.

Glancing down, I swallow audibly when I see I was very wrong about the color of her underwear today. Although maybe I should give myself half a point. Pink is in the red family.

But never in my wildest dreams did I think she would be wearing red lace boy shorts. Hello hard on; nice to see you again.

I close my eyes as I tuck the sheet into the lacy material, gritting my teeth as I fight to control my body’s reaction to Sookie. I know at some point I’ve told her that red is my favorite color. And lace? Ugh. It’s begging to be torn to shreds.

Walking silently over to the counter where the bottles of lotion are kept, I fill my hands with the fruity fragrance that Sookie prefers, praying that I can make it through the next ninety minutes without doing something that will end up with me getting sued or slapped.

 

Sookie’s POV

Dear God in heaven, Eric’s hands are magical. I haven’t been able to stop all the moans falling from my lips as his large firm hands work the muscles of my back. Every ache and pain falls away as his fingers move up and down my spine. I’m trying so hard to lay still on the massage table, but the way he is making me feel is turning me on. I hope he hasn’t noticed that my body is moving restlessly trying to seek some relief.

Oh shit! His fingers brushed the sides of my breasts as his large hands work down my spine towards the small of my back. I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out in pleasure. My hands are clenched tightly in fists. Eric probably thinks I’m some wanton hussy but I don’t care. He’s the only man that’s made me feel this good in a long time. Christ if his fingers feel this good on my spine, can you imagine what they’d feel like in my pussy?

Fuck, I think I just came thinking about it!

“You OK Sookie?” He’s trying to kill me; I know he is. Eric’s voice has taken on a husky quality that makes me tingle. His body presses against mine as he works his hands down the right side of my body and my eyes fly open because I can feel how good this massage is making him feel.

I think he should take his pants off and let his dick massage me internally. Slow, deep strokes that stretch me completely. Fast, harder thrusts that work all the tension out of my body. His hips would swivel to make sure that his cock reaches every place inside me, finally rubbing against my special spot that would make me detonate like a firecracker!

Goddamn it! I definitely just came thinking about that!

“Mmmmm, I’m fine,” I whimper as his thumbs push against the small of my back. Just a little lower . . .

Damn. Eric moves his hands to untuck the blanket from my lower body, pulling it back up to cover my skin. His hands rub over the smooth material, pulling it taut over my body. His feet move quietly against the hardwood floor as he moves around the table to the lower half of my body so he can work on my feet, calves, and thighs. Let me tell you something, if you think I moan like a wanton hussy when Eric’s hands are on my back, it’s nothing compared to the way I sound when he is handling my feet and legs. You try being on your feet all day, every day from before sunrise to after sunset and see how you feel when a strong man who is a massage master is easing every ache and pain you have.

“Ooooohhhhh,” I moan when Eric’s fingers press into the arch of my foot. That’s the spot!

 

Eric’s POV

She’s fucking trying to kill me! The red lace underwear, the moans and whimpers falling from her lips, and the way her body is moving against the massage table are all making it painfully hard (pun intended) for me to continue this massage. All I want to do as my hands caress her legs is slip underneath the sheet and blanket, caressing the fabric covering her lower lips.

If I’m going to give her a massage, I want to be thorough and make certain that I massage every part of her. And if I’m going to be thorough, I should use every part of my body to massage hers, inside and out.

When I finish her legs, I have to clear my throat for a few seconds before I can grind out that I’m ready for her to turn over. This requires me to hold the sheet and blanket away from her body so that she can move without falling off the table. It would be so easy while the blanket is loose like this to peek at her body; to see how lush and full her breasts are or how tight her stomach is. I already know that she is tan all over, but I’m dying to know if she has tan lines or if she likes to sunbathe in the nude. I haven’t detected any tan lines across her back or shoulders, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t tan lines lower on her body.

Inquiring minds want to know!

When Sookie is comfortably settled on the massage bench, I tuck the sheet and blanket tightly around her body so she can barely move. I know it’s supposed to keep her warm, but really I think it is to keep my hands off the parts of her they shouldn’t be touching. The only parts left of her to focus on are her arms, neck, and head. It might surprise you, but I think this is the hardest part of the session for me, because now I can see her lovely face. Looking at her I can tell exactly what she is feeling; see the look of pure bliss that crosses her face as I continue to rub her down. And if I thought her moans were torturous before, it’s nothing like hearing them without the barrier of the pillow against her lips.

Today though I try to keep my focus away from her face; I can’t look at her because I’m too raw. Chalk it up to a dry spell or whatever you want, but she’s affected me more today than I can ever remember. I’m hanging on by a thread here, when all I really want to do is cover her body with mine and see if I can get her to make all of those noises again for a completely different reason.

Stop it Northman! You are here to do a job, not sexually assault a client. If you want her, then you need to tell her the truth about everything and ask her out. Do you really think she is going to like it that you haven’t been completely upfront with who you are?

With that thought firmly in my mind, I try to empty my mind of all my dirty thoughts so I can get through the rest of the massage like a professional. Try to forget that it’s Sookie’s luscious body on the table and instead imagine someone truly horrific….

Austin Powers.

Dame Edna.

The old guy at the gym that likes to walk around the locker room in only his white knee-high socks.

I exhale deeply, thinking I finally have myself under control when I glance down and see Sookie’s beautiful eyes open and fixed on me. There is a fire burning in her eyes that makes me lick my lips hungrily. My hands are on Sookie’s shoulders where I’ve been working on relieving the tension in her neck, shoulders, and head. This is usually the last part of the massage and then I leave her in the room to relax and dress at her own pace.

Instead of waiting for me to leave, Sookie pushes herself into a sitting position on the table, holding the sheet and blanket firmly against her chest. With her free hand, she grabs one of mine and pulls me so I am standing directly in front of her.

Sookie licks her lips with the tip of her pink tongue before biting the bottom of her lower lip. Her voice is very husky when she speaks and her words make my insides burn. “Please tell me that I’m not the only one here feeling like they are going to burn to a cinder. Tell me you feel what I’m feeling.” Her eyes flick up to meet mine and the uncertainty I see mixed with the desire forces me to act without thinking.

Dropping Sookie’s hand, I cup her beautiful upturned face between my large hands, the hands that are intimately acquainted with nearly every inch of her body. Rather than answer her question, I lower my lips to hers, moving them slowly against hers until her tongue sneaks out to lick my bottom lip. My hands tighten their grip on her face, threading in her hair to hold her head still as I deepen my assault on her lips. I’m rapidly losing my grip on my sanity as I press my body against hers.

Sookie tears her lips away from mine, gasping for breath. I change the path of my lips, sucking on the skin of her neck and tasting the fruity lotion that I used to smooth her skin. “I’ve wanted this for a long time,” she says while pushing her hands underneath my shirt and sliding around to my back to dip inside the waist of my pants. “Do you know how many times I’ve had to finish myself off on this table after you leave me? EVERY. TIME. You make me so goddamn horny,” Sookie whispers harshly before she attacks my neck with her lips making me groan. She’s sucking and nipping at my skin so hard I know she’s going to leave a mark but I don’t care. Hearing that Sookie’s been masturbating on my massage table makes me completely hard. I’ve had countless fantasies about taking her on this table, bent over it, having her ride me; it doesn’t fucking matter what position as long as I get to make my dreams come true.

I pull away from Sookie’s hold and push her to lie back on the massage table. She bites her lower lip but complies with my silent request. As she lies down, I pull the blanket and sheet away from her body. My breath catches when I see Sookie lying completely bare before me save for the red lace boy shorts. Her dusky pink nipples harden due to the chill in the room, and I salivate with the need to taste them. Sookie’s right hand slips underneath the waist of her panties, and my eyes widen when I see her begin to masturbate in front of me. She throws her head back, exposing the column of her throat, and moans softly as her fingers move rapidly underneath the red lacy fabric.

I’m so entranced by the sight in front of me that I don’t notice the knock at the door to the room the first time it happens. However, the second knock is louder and is followed by one of the employees calling my name. “Mr. Northman? I’m sorry to disturb your session with Miss Stackhouse, but we have a customer making a scene at the front counter. The customer is demanding to speak to one of the owners, and Miss Ravenscroft isn’t here.”

Sookie stopped her ministrations on the table and is looking at me with a raised eyebrow. “I’ll be out in a minute,” I snap while Sookie slides off the table. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but I know I want to weep when she puts on the robe she entered the room wearing.

“Sookie I can explain -” She cuts off my explanation by putting her fingers over my lips. It’s the same hand that was just inside her panties, and there are still some of her juices on her fingers. She smells sweet and tart at the same time. I can’t help it, my tongue snakes out to lick her fingers, wanting to know what she tastes like if this is the last time I’m going to see her. I don’t know how she feels about learning I’m one of the owners here. Does she see it as a betrayal? Does she think I’ve lied to her?

“So you’re the boss around here?”

“Yes. I was filling in the day we first met. I didn’t mean to keep anything from you. I was planning on,” but again she silences me with her fingers over my lips.

“So you aren’t a regular masseuse?”

I shake my head no. Sookie drops her fingers from my lips and turns to open the door. She steps out in the hallway where the girl from the receptionist desk is standing awkwardly. Sookie smiles at the girl politely before turning back to look at me.

“I’ll take a rain check for the rest. You know how to find me.” Sookie winks at me before walking down the hallway, heading back towards the locker room for women. I’m left standing with my mouth agape as I watch her hips swing seductively. When Sookie reaches the curve in the hallway, she turns back to look at me. Our eyes meet across the space and her lips curve in a teasing smile before she walks out of my line of sight.

With a shake of my head, I stride down the opposite end of the hallway to deal with the belligerent customer, though I need a few minutes to compose myself. After that, I need to go to my office. It’s against company policy, but I think Sookie won’t mind that I’m looking through her customer file to find her address.

She did say I owe her a rain check after all.

~ The End

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12 Responses to The Appointment

  1. Pingback: Thank you! |

  2. mom2goalies says:

    Hot damn! And I do mean HOT! Where can I find one of him, sigh…

  3. So in keeping with Pam’s French theme: Le Sigh….

  4. Kittyinaz says:

    Omg!! So freaking hot and nothing even happened. I bow to the master!

  5. Pingback: Updates: | SVM & TB Stories

  6. shoegirl01 says:

    Nope never got a massage by anyone like that! I feel cheated 😉

  7. nicolle1977 says:

    So hot, loved it.

  8. ashmo2000 says:

    My goodness! I couldn’t have Eric Northman as my masseuse and remain sane after every appointment 😏

  9. askarsgirl says:

    Ok we need a part deux to this one ASAP!

  10. lostinspace33 says:

    God, could you imagine walking in for your massage appointment and finding that Eric was your masseur??? I think I would die on the spot!

  11. lzdiva4 says:

    I don’t think I’ve ever had a massage that good before. 🙂

  12. kleannhouse says:

    made me all tingly…. KY

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