Shortly after my birthday, I realized that I was missing the most important gift: one from me for myself. I wanted something that would help me deal with all the stress that started tormenting my life lately. Something relaxing. Maybe a book with meditation instructions or yoga exercises. So, I started searching the internet. After I had read through the hundredth advertised bestseller for mindfulness and the umpteenth call for self-love, I could no longer bear the misery. My neck hurt and my hands and feet were cold. "A massage," I muttered to myself. "That would actually be it. To stretch out on the lounger, enjoy and return home with significantly less tension.”
The offer of massages in my city was overwhelming. I scrolled downward, compared prices and addresses. As a small ad caught my eye: 'Massages for women only'. I clicked on it. Behind the ad was a neat website, which consisted of little more than a few brief descriptions with prices and a cell phone number.
A woman answered the phone and introduced herself as Amelie. "Are you interested in a massage? Would you like to make an appointment?” she asked.
"I just have your website in front of me. What exactly is the deluxe package? Everything else has descriptions, just this one not."
"Oh, that's the most popular massage I offer." Amelie's voice was so gentle that I almost felt losing tension via the phone. “A special relaxation massage with oil. A full body massage. That means I massage everything between your top and your toes. We can skip individual parts of your body if it would be uncomfortable for you having them touched. I would explain all of this to you again in the preliminary meeting at the beginning of the appointment."
I looked at my browser window. "Your website doesn't say that you don't offer erotic massages. Is that superfluous with female clients only? Aren't women asking for it?"
For a moment I thought Amelie wasn't going to answer. Then she said with a smile in her voice: “I choose myself who I offer it to, free of charge. If I like a woman... Well, sometimes I ask my customers if they want more.” She cleared her throat. “The calls are a kind of screening. I talk to the women and then decide whether to give them an appointment. And sometimes, when the mood is right and my customers want it, there is a happy ending for them.”
I heard her click a ballpoint pen.
"So, what's the word? Would you like to set a date?"
My face suddenly felt very hot. "With pleasure. Preferably the big deluxe package. It's sort of a belated birthday present to myself. Against stress. For relaxation and all that.” The sound of my own stammering made me even more embarrassed.
Amelie gave me an appointment and an address. Then she said goodbye to me.
A few weeks later, I stood nervously in front of an entrance door of a modern building on the edge of the city centre. I pressed the bell button and waited.
"Hello," I heard Amelie's voice. "Could you please take a step to the right and look up? There's a camera over there. Just a little security measure. I'll let you in right away."
As she asked, I stepped aside and looked up. "Hello I am Lena. I have an appointment at two."
The door opener sounded almost immediately. "Thank you," I said aloud and entered.
Amelie was waiting for me on the third floor at an open door. She led me through a small hallway into a warm, softly lit room. In the middle was a massage table with a light sheet.
"I'll give you a few minutes so that you can undress. Behind the folding-screen in the corner is a chair on which you can put your things.” Amelie smiled at me. “I only use fragrance-neutral oils for the massage so that you can concentrate fully on the touch. Do you have any allergies?"
I shook my head.
She asked me more questions about my health and my body. I stole a glance at her. Amelie was a little taller than me, a little plump, and had dark, shoulder-length curls. Whenever she smiled, I saw dimples in her cheeks. I liked her straight away.
"If you don't want something, say it right away. There's always something else I can do. It's about you feeling good.” Amelie handed me a large towel. "Lie down on your stomach on the massage table, pull this over you and let me know when you're ready." She smiled at me again and went into the hall. She closed the door behind her.
I undressed nervously behind the room-divider. Feeling almost a little embarrassed I hid my socks and underwear under my jeans and t-shirt. Then I wrapped myself in the towel and climbed onto the massage table. "Done", I called out in a low voice and plucked the corners of the towel out from under me.
The door opened behind me.
"I'm here," said Amelie. She stood at the head of the bed and put her hand comfortingly on my head. "I have a remote control here. If you want, I can play some relaxing music. But I can also turn it off at any time."
I nodded into the massage table. Soft music came from hidden speakers. The light from the lamp grew darker.
"If you are in pain, let me know. If you don't want to be touched, let me know. If something is uncomfortable ... "
"Then I'll let you know."
Amelie patted my shoulder gently. "Good. And now let's see if we can make you more relaxed."
She pushed the towel down to my waist. Shortly afterwards I heard Amelie warm oil in her hands. The sound of her palms rubbing together gave me goose bumps.
"Here we go," she murmured softly. "I hope my hands are not too cold."
'Infinitely pleasant'. That was my first thought as she massaged my shoulders. Her hands greeted my back slowly and with slight pressure. She stroked from the base of my head to my pelvis, flowing up again, literally caressing my shoulder blades.
I gave a pleasant sigh as her fingers ran up and down my spine to the right and left. Amelie's hands stroked my shoulders, my arms, my neck. She pressed and rubbed, pushed and kneaded. I automatically took a deep breath. She stood next to me, rubbed my hip with her right hand and folded the cloth a little to the side with her left. Then she started massaging my left thigh.
"Oh, that's good," I murmured.
Amelie's hands went over my leg, to my foot, rubbing up and down in waves across my calves. She went around the table and lifted the cloth from my right leg with one hand without her other hand stopping to stroke me. She skilfully folded the towel into a kind of triangle that covered my bottom. It was loosely pinned between my legs and hips.
Her hands moved up and down my right leg. She rubbed and kneaded my thighs, my calves. Then she worked the soles of my feet with her knuckles. In doing so, she kept picking up some new oil. With each touch of her, more stress seemed to drop of from me.
"Is it okay if I massage your butt too?" Amelie asked quietly.
I nodded. The thought of her hands on my bottom made my heart beat faster.
Almost immediately, her fingers slowly moved up from my toes. They paused briefly on my ankles. Then she stroked up and down in flowing movements: from my ankle to the highest point of my calves, back to my toes. Up to my knee, back down to the tips of my feet. It felt like warm waves were going up my legs.
The anxiety I felt when asked about my bottom disappeared. I only felt Amelie's hands on my skin. Her fingers slid under the folded towel, over my buttocks, up to my hip. The movement made the cloth slide to the side.
I lay naked on Amelie's massage table, with her hands on my butt.
Amelie's hands only stayed on my bum for a short moment, then they wandered over my back again in the same, flowing movements. I felt some oil run down between my buttocks. With gentle pressure, her knuckles rubbed the hardened muscles on my neck, then slid over my shoulders, over my back, my legs. She stroked up again, from my toes to my shoulders. Now there was no towel to interrupt her gentle stroking. As if carried by waves, her hands and forearms moved over my back and hip. Then she kneaded my bum gently but firmly.
On the one hand, I enjoyed her touch. On the other hand, it felt strange to be naked and just to lie there while she was playing with my butt.
"Are you all right?" Amelie asked. Her fingers continued to dance across my skin, rubbing my hips. "Should I cover you again?"
"No," I mumbled sheepishly. "I just didn't expect you to do that. I... I think I'm a little ashamed."
Amelie's fingers slid up my back. She caressed my neck, my shoulders, my arms. "Try to relax. Does it help if I tell you that I already had a lot of naked bodies here on the table?” Her hands went down my back. For a short moment she grabbed my butt with both hands and squeezed.
"Your tush is very pretty to look at."
The knuckles of her fingers massaged my right buttox, then my left. Finally, she put a hand on either side and rubbed in a circular motion. I imagined my butt wiggling.
"Next up is your front."
Amelie spread the towel over me again. I turned underneath it. She stood at the head of the massage table and put her hands on my face. "Close your eyes and take a deep breath."
Amelie brushed over my forehead and chin, cheeks and neck. She stroked my neck in flowing movements over my shoulders, then over the uncovered parts of my cleavage. I relaxed again under her hands. Her fingers brushed down from my collarbones in ever larger circles. Suddenly her hands slid under the towel, just past my breasts, then up to my neck. I shivered.
