Healed by His Touch

Healed By His Touch

by Lydia Litt

Copyright 2012 Lydia Litt

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***

Jessica surfaced just as Marco

reached the pool deck. He was gloriously

naked, his brown, muscled body clearly

visible in the moonlight. She drank in his

broad shoulders and expansive chest

before following the dark trail down his

belly to his fully erect manhood. Her

eyes widened at the sight of his

enormous member, which seemed to

grow even larger and more erect under

her gaze.

Blood rushed to her private places at

the thought of having him inside her. She

had never felt this kind of desire before,

an absolute yearning to be completely

filled by the throbbing flesh of a man.

***

Jessica looked around the small

makeshift waiting room with a bit of

distain. The turn-of-the-century house-

turned-salon was decorated in a quaint

country style, which was a far cry from the

modern, upscale spa experiences she was

used to.

She was early for her appointment, but

the magazine selection was geared toward

mothers and housewives. Not a single

issue of Vogue or Cosmo could be found.

So she looked around at the odd

assortment of products on display.

Handmade potholders, jewelry, hats

and scarves hung from a sales rack in front

of the brick fireplace, while a

whitewashed bookcase held more

traditional products: shampoos,

conditioners and styling solutions

intermixed with a variety of combs and

brushes.

A paddle brush caught Jessica’s eye

and her thoughts wandered.
There’s more

than one use for a brush like that . . .

The brush reminded her of Daniel, who

had always preferred the rougher side of

sex. Over the years, Jessica had adjusted

to his preferences, although she often

longed for a bit of romance. Daniel would

be so turned on by the brush; paddling her

ass as he rammed her from behind was his

kind of fun.

Smack! Ram! Smack! Ram! Smack!

Ram!

The dampness that formed between

Jessica’s legs was a stark reminder that

she hadn’t had sex in over a year.

It was hard to believe that her divorce

from billionaire Daniel Duncan was

taking so long. Last week, her lawyer

thought they had finally struck a deal.

Yesterday, Daniel’s attorney said it was a

no-go. Still a few more details to iron out,

he said. Jessica guessed that Daniel was

going to make another play for their house

in the country. But that was her home now

and she refused to let him have it. It was

the one shared possession that held

meaning for her.

The stress of going through round after

round of financial negotiations was taking

its toll on Jessica. She had lost a bit too

much weight over the last 12 months. Her

once-voluptuous figure still had curves,

but if the divorce wasn’t finalized soon,

those would be gone, too.

Jessica’s friends had been urging her to

jump back into the dating game or, at the

very least, back into the sack. “Sex is a

great stress-reliever,” Donna had argued,

and she should know. In addition to

sleeping with her husband, Donna was

screwing her tennis coach and her

gardener, and didn’t seem the least bit

stressed about her indiscretions.

“Listen Jess,” Donna continued, patting

Jessica’s hand like a concerned parent,

“we know Daniel’s control issues did a

number on your self esteem. But you won’t

start the healing process unless you put

yourself out there and assert a little

control of your own.”

But Jessica wasn’t quite ready to go

there. She needed a different way to

relieve the pressure of divorce. That’s

when Angela recommended her new

massage therapist.

“Marco has magic hands,” Angela

sighed. “One hour on his table and you’ll

be purring like a kitten.”

Jessica loved a great massage and had

been having periodic sessions at the club

she belonged to. But so far, the stress-

management effects had been short-lived.

“Seriously,” Angela continued, “he

offers a special treatment called the Hot

Oil Massage that’s to die for. It’s not on

the main service list, so you have to ask

for it - and tip accordingly. I get one from

Marco every week and it’s a very

satisfying experience if you know what I

mean.” Angela winked before closing her

eyes and licking her lips for effect.

For the wealthy, nothing was out of

reach, including a Hot Oil Massage that

wasn’t offered to the average customer.

Angela’s tipping reference and subtle

sexual innuendo made it clear that

Marco’s special massage service was

only available to an elite - and discrete -

segment of clientele.

Jessica was intrigued. She had to admit

that normally-uptight Angela did seem

more relaxed lately. Besides, rich men got

massages-with-benefits all the time! So

when her friend handed her a business

card for The Neighborhood Salon with

Marco’s name and hours scribbled on the

back, she vowed to make an appointment.

“Trust me,” Angela stated, “one session

with Marco and you’ll be better than new

and back in the game.”

Jessica’s thoughts were interrupted by

a tap on the shoulder. “Are you Mrs.

Duncan?” a deep voice with a Latin

American accent asked. She twisted

around and looked up. Tanned skin, rich

brown eyes and brilliant white teeth

looked back at her, warm, exotic,

deliciously sexy. “I am Marco. Are you

Mrs. Duncan?” he repeated. Jessica

nodded, getting to her feet while

collecting her composure.

“Please, call me Jessica,” she said

warmly, offering her hand in greeting, a

move she had perfected during her

marriage to Daniel when entertaining his

clients and colleagues was a regular

occurrence.

Instead of shaking her hand as

expected, Marco took her fingers and

gently guided them toward his full mouth,

grazing the back of her hand with his lips.

“It is a pleasure to meet you Jessica,” he

said, making direct eye contact and

holding her gaze just a bit longer than

appropriate.

Marco had classic tall, dark and

handsome good looks with a commanding

six-foot-two frame and broad, strong

shoulders. The wetness Jessica felt earlier

when thinking of Daniel and the paddle

brush returned with a surge. Damn! It
had

been a long time.

“Let me show you to my treatment

room.” With her fingertips still in his

hand, Marco guided Jessica to a room at

the back of the house-salon. She clutched

her Birkin bag to her chest, wondering

with both anxiety and excitement what

Angela had gotten her into. As she stepped

into Marco’s treatment room, however,

her fear was replaced with wonder.

The oasis before her was nothing like

the rest of the folksy salon. The room was

large and had a small bathroom off to one

side. In the center was Marco’s massage

table. A closet without doors revealed

shelves stocked neatly with sheets and

towels in neutral colors, along with

bolster pillows, an array of lotions, oils

and other supplies. Incense burned on a

desk in the corner, filling the room with a

heady, seductive scent. Several large

plants made the room seem almost alive,

and two large windows were covered, but

allowed filtered sunlight to enter the

space.

“Do you like it?” Marco asked,

gesturing to the room in general.

“Very much,” Jessica replied. “I’ve

had many massages before, but never in a

room quite like this.”

“I am glad that it meets with your

approval.” Marco moved toward Jessica.

“Tell me,” he said, removing her cardigan

and laying it over his arm, “what kind of

massage do you prefer?”

The incidental touch made Jessica’s

heart race and the thought of having

Marco’s hands on her naked flesh caused

her to hesitate before answering. She was

about to ask for something risque and was

unsure if she could follow through. But

when Marco smiled in encouragement, she

said, “My friend, Angela, is a client of

yours and told me to ask for your special

Hot Oil Massage.”

“Ah yes, a very good choice,” Marco

nodded knowingly. “Angela is wonderful

lady who knows what she wants. Are you

sure this is what you want?”

“She said it would make my pussy

purr,” Jessica responded nervously,

before quickly adding, “I mean, make me

purr like a kitten.”

Marco responded with a deep, throaty

laugh. “I shall do my best!” His eyes were

twinkling with amusement as he showed

Jessica where to put her clothes. “The hot

oil I use will stain your undergarments, so

it’s best if you disrobe completely. I will

leave you now to undress in private.

Please lay face down on the table.”

When Marco left, Jessica quickly

removed her clothes and hung them in the

bathroom as directed, hiding her bra and

panties under her shirt in case Marco used

the facilities before he got started. She got

onto the massage table, slipping between

the smooth sheets. The table padding was

heated and she let herself sink into the

warmth it offered.

How could she have said something so

stupid?
Oh Marco, please make my pussy

purr!
He probably thought she was a

complete idiot. Or worse, a

nymphomaniac! She was grateful to be

face down so she could hide her

embarrassment in the padded face cradle.

Jessica was still silently berating

herself when Marco returned. He didn’t

say anything, but went about gathering the

things needed for the massage. Music

began playing softly in the background and

a tubular pillow was slipped under

Jessica’s feet for comfort. Although she

had the top sheet pulled up to her neck,

Marco gently folded it down, once, twice,

three times, until her entire back and half

of her ass were exposed. The subtle

contact made Jessica shiver and the

familiar wetness returned.

“I will begin,” Marco said quietly,

standing at the head of the table. Through

the face cradle, Jessica could see that he

was now barefoot, the lines from his

discarded leather sandals still visible. He

had also changed out of his jeans and t-

shirt and into loose linen pants and a

matching tunic. She closed her eyes when

he drizzled warm oil on her upper back,

allowing the soothing sensations to

overtake her mental torment.

Marco’s strong hands began moving

over her muscles in long, sweeping