Taylor inhaled floral scents, closed his eyes, let time pass. The next time he opened his eyes, Cammie was standing next to the tub, holding open a towel.
He stepped into it, wrapped himself, walked behind the privacy screen.When he was dry he hitched the towel around his waist and crossed to the massage room. Cammie had her back turned, busy arranging oils in wicker baskets. She opened the curtains, letting in a flood of foggy light. Shipwreck Bay was notorious for its fogs.
Taylor lay face down on the table, naked, and draped himself with a turquoise towel.
“Ready,” Taylor said, and Cammie began to kneed his scalp, then his neck and shoulders. Some masseuses have the magic touch, and Cammie was one of those. The tensions of Taylor’s demanding job and devastated love life began to melt away. Taylor imagined himself in a fragrant forest in early spring, with all its earthy sights and sounds.
He abandoned himself to Cammie’s hands, enjoying the intense pleasure of her back massage. Cammie said barely a word until she asked him to turn over and started anointing him with oil. She failed, however, to drape him and he was lying there nude.
When he opened his eyes he saw one breast had popped out of her top.
The Inno-Scents was a therapeutic spa, not a happy-ending joint. So Taylor, who was raised as a gentleman, closed his eyes. He flushed with embarrassment when Cammie’s hands brushed his penis. The surprise gave way to a definite hard-on.
Cammie leaned toward him and, her breath hot in his ear. She whispered something just as Taylor heard the spa’s main door, and footsteps out there on the tiles.
Cammie backed away from the table, leaving Taylor nude. He grabbed for the towel, but not soon enough. The massage room’s door cracked open. For a moment, the intruder pretended to be tending to the houseplants.
“Taylor?” The door opened wider.
“Oh! Oh my God,” a female voice said.
The door closed. Taylor rolled off the table and wrapped a towel around his midsection. Cammie plopped into a chair, looking guilty, like a shoplifter awaiting the cops in a store manager’s office.
Taylor walked into the main room and approached the intruder, Stephanie Voss, who’d retreated behind the reception counter.
“Enjoying your massage?” she asked, arching one eyebrow. “Happy with your ending?”
Taylor slipped behind the privacy screen, toweled off his oily body and got dressed. His massage-relaxed muscles had already bunched into knots. Could he manage a graceful exit?