Happy Ending

Author's Note: This story evolved from an alternate version of the striptease scene in my work "Mom's Buttons" and features a similar ecdysiast theme.

All characters are above the age of 18 unless otherwise specified.

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I sat in the waiting room of the massage parlor. I felt kind of stupid being there. There were two other people there, both women, one about ten years older than me, and the other about my age.

Getting a massage was certainly not my idea of a relaxing Sunday. Sitting at home watching basketball or drinking a beer on the back porch was.

But alas, I seemed incapable of ever not complying with something my wife wanted. I had been dealing with soreness in my shoulders and legs (only because she made me rearrange the living room furniture by myself, mind you). I would have been perfectly content lying on the couch and giving myself some rest, but apparently what I need was a massage.

My wife got them every other week. Which was fine for her; if she liked massages, she could have them however many times she wanted. But it's not something I ever wanted to do.

Granted, I had never actually had a massage before, so I really couldn't say if I didn't like them. But I had still made sure that I wasn't seen by anybody I knew on my way here.

I took a deep breath and tried to have an open mind. If I was going in with a bad attitude, I knew I wouldn't like it. In all my 42 years of life, that had never changed. If I decided I didn't want to like something, nothing would change my mind.

Maybe my wife was onto something. Maybe it would be great for me. I didn't think it would, but I would indulge her this one time at least. I figured that at least if I absolutely hated it, I wouldn't have to do it again.

I checked my watch again. My appointment had been set for fifteen minutes ago. They were running a little behind schedule. I was supposed to stop at the grocery store on the way home to pick up some things for dinner, and I didn't want to be late back home.

I sighed and kept waiting. Ten more minutes passed by. My foot inadvertently tapped on the tile floor, drawing a side-long glance from one of the other ladies. I noticed and tried to stop my restless foot.

Finally, the receptionist spoke out, breaking the silence otherwise permeated only by the pop music lightly playing on the speakers.

"Ken?" she asked, standing from her desk and looking at me.

"Yep," I said, standing up from my chair. Another sidelong glance from one of the other women waiting as she eyed my clothes up and down. She didn't seem like a bitch at all.

"Your masseuse is ready to see you," the receptionist said.

"About damn time," I thought, still ticked off at the wait. "Thanks," is what came out of my mouth though.

I wondered if I was too polite. My wife always complained when she was inconvenienced. No matter how many times I got embarrassed at restaurants, it still worked, and my wallet appreciated it.

Maybe I needed to be more like that. But I knew I would never be able to be like that.

I followed behind the receptionist as she escorted me to one of the rooms in the parlor. She opened the door and I stepped inside.

The room looked pretty much like what I expected. There was, predictably, a massage table in the middle and then a counter lined with towels and what appeared to be oils.

"Your masseuse will be right in," the receptionist said, before closing the door most of the way behind her and whisking herself back to her desk.

My eyes scanned the room again. I guess it was a bit bigger than I imagined. There were small windows near top of the walls, letting in plenty of natural light.

Before I had the time to complete a full architectural assessment of the room, the door opened behind me.

In walked a young girl, probably the same age as the receptionist. I was surprised; my wife had scheduled my appointment with one of the male masseurs.

"Hi, I'm super sorry about the wait. I'm Aaliyah!" she said in a very chipper and upbeat voice. She extended her hand out.

"Ken," I answered in kind, shaking her hand.

Aaliyah couldn't have been much older than 25. She had light brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, framing her beautiful face. She didn't have a lot of makeup on, but her soft, sweet features shined regardless. Her skin was a beautiful tanned color, and just the slightest hint of sun-kissed freckles adorned her cheeks.

She stood only a little bit shorter than my 5'10" frame, at least five or six inches taller than my tiny wife. She had on a short-sleeve white blouse, with loose black slacks. From what I could tell, she was fit, but certainly not bone-thin, just the perfect build for me.

"Well it's lovely to meet you! I will be your masseuse today."

It suddenly occurred to me that the receptionist had said "masseuse" too, and not "masseur." I don't know how I didn't pick up on that.

"Nice to meet you, but I thought I was supposed to be with a guy, Jonathan maybe?"

"Yep," Aaliyah said, "it looks like you were, but he actually called in sick today. That's why we're running a little behind schedule, since the rest of us are filling in for him."

"Um, okay," I said. I guess it didn't really matter.

"Great, so you're scheduled for a full-body massage, correct?"

"Probably," I answered. "My wife made the appointment for me, so..."

"Well that's sweet of her! Anniversary gift or anything like that?"

"Nope, nothing like that."

"Oh, well, that's even better, sort of spontaneous!" Aaliyah laughed, kind of high-pitched but somehow very infectious. I chuckled as well.

"Yeah, well, she's amazing," I said.

"Relationship goals, am I right?"

"Um, sure," I responded.

"Okay, well anyway, it looks like you're getting the whole nine yards today, so I'm going to ask you to get undressed and lie face-down on the table. You can use a towel to cover your behind if you like."

"Can I keep my underwear on?" I asked.

"You can if you want to; it's totally up to you. Only thing I'd say is that the oils can kind of get everywhere and might stain them, but as I said, it's your choice."

"Um, alright," I said. I fished my phone and wallet out of my pocket and set them down on the counter.

"I'm just going to step out for a minute and let you do that. I'll knock and just let me know, alrighty?"

I nodded my head in understanding.

"Great," she said with a big smile still on her face. "See you in a minute."

Aaliyah stepped out and closed the door behind her. I took a deep breath and pulled my polo shirt off.

"Just keep an open mind," I reminded myself. "You may love it."

I caught a brief glimpse of my shirtless body in the mirror above the counter. I really ought to get back to the gym again. I was a three-sport athlete in high school and kept up beer league baseball for a while, but my 25-year-old physique had decayed quite a bit in the 17 years since then. I didn't think I looked bad, but I could afford to cut off that extra little 5 or 10 pounds from my belly.

I shed my shoes, socks, and pants, and stood in my boxers.

Did I want to keep them on? I had originally planned to, but I hadn't thought about them getting wet or oily or anything. I guess I'd have a towel covering me still. I pulled them down too.

I grabbed one of the towels from the counter. It felt really soft and fluffy. I might have to ask them what laundry detergent they were using.

I lay face-down on the table and did my best to drape the towel over my butt and lower back. I settled in, my face resting against the soft padded ring thing at the top of the table. I was actually quite comfortable.

The wall-mounted clock ticked quietly, counting out the seconds. I waited for what felt like a very long time, but was probably only a minute or two.

A subtle knock at the door broke the metronomic ticking.

"I'm decent," I said, and the door opened.

"Well hopefully you'll be better than decent by the time I'm done! Maybe even great!" Aaliyah joked as she walked in.

"Yep," I cautiously responded. I still wasn't sure whether or not I would like it.

"So do you have any areas that are feeling particularly sore or over-worked?" Aaliyah asked. "Any places I should focus on?"

"Um, my shoulders and thighs are feeling a little sore."

"Uh-oh. We can't be having that!" Aaliyah said. "Mind if I ask how?"

"Well, my wife is perpetually unsatisfied by the arrangement of our living room, so I had to move the furniture, again, by myself."

"That's not good," Aaliyah sympathized. I heard a squirting sound, and her hands rubbing together with oil. "Lots of heavy lifting, huh?"

"Yep. And for someone who skips leg day a little too often," I sarcastically remarked, "my old muscles didn't respond too kindly."

"Well, we'll get that fixed in no time. I think I'll start with your back and shoulders first. So just close your eyes, take a deep breath, and relax."

She moved to my left side and stood over me. I did as she directed, trying to calm myself and let go of all the stress.

The sudden cold on my back made me start, and Aaliyah recognized the shiver.

"Sorry if the oil's a little cold at first. Hopefully not too bad. It gets better quickly," she assured me.

Her slick fingers pressed gently into my back, just below my shoulder blades. She ran her fingertips back and forth, lightly pressing down on my muscles.

"Does that hurt at all? Is that a good amount of pressure?" she asked.

"Yeah, feels good," I answered.

Aaliyah pressed her hands to my back and trailed them further down. She rubbed between my shoulder blades and down my spine, making me tingle a little. The oil quickly warmed up, and her hands actually felt pretty good.

"You feel pretty tight actually. Do you have a lot of stress built up?"

"No, I don't think so," I responded.

"Well, let's try to get those knots out anyway."

Her hands roamed over my back, lingering on specific spots and rubbing in deeper. Her thumbs pressed in right where my ribcage ended, which felt surprisingly good, before her fingertips played back over my spine.

I let out an involuntary sigh. I was actually finding this to be quite relaxing and enjoyable. Now I wondered why I had been so concerned in the first place.

Aaliyah worked her way back up to my shoulders, where she stayed for a few minutes. Her soft hands worked magic on my sore muscles, the palms of her hands kneading into my skin and magically dissolving all that stored tension I didn't know I had.

My head picked up when I realized Aaliyah was standing directly at my head. She was applying more oil to her hands.

"Alright, I'm going to do your neck, so if you wouldn't mind putting your head back down."

"Oh, sure," I replied, flustered a little and trying to tear my eyes away from what was staring back at me.

The lowest button on Aaliyah's shirt was undone, spreading open the very bottom of her blouse. I could see a little bit of her tan, bare stomach, and what appeared to be just the slightest sliver of white panties peeking over the waistline of her pants.

I could have sworn she had her blouse tucked in when I first came in. Aaliyah must have not done all the bottom buttons since the shirt would be tucked in, then untucked it without realizing that some of her was exposed.

I laid my head back down, trying to rid my mind of that tantalizing image of bare skin. Try as I might, it was burned into the inside of my closed eyelids.

But that was fine, right? It was purely accidental, there was nothing I had done wrong. My dick still twitched a little, bringing itself to life for the first time.

Aaliyah's wonderful hands alleviated my cares, massaging my traps and the sides of my neck. She dragged her fingernails lightly along the back of my neck up to my scalp, sending shivers down my spine.

Her hands moved back down to my neck, rubbing in the exact spot where I got a crick from sleeping weird a few days earlier. It was crazy to me how perfectly she was able to recognize all those tight and sore areas.

Aaliyah shifted around to the side of the table again after a few minutes. She continued working over my back, moving all the way down to the edge of the towel just above my tailbone. Her fingers slipped underneath the towel briefly, rubbing the very top of my butt, before moving to my lower back again.

My cock twitched again, stiffening a little. Shit, that was the last thing I needed. That would be really embarrassing if I turned over or she noticed. And yet I still groaned at the pleasant sensations, my soreness wilting away at Aaliyah's touch.

She seemed to pick up on that. "Feeling good?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah," I responded.

"Great. I think then that I'll move on to your legs."

Aaliyah squirted more oil onto her hands and began rubbing it into my calves. She worked her way up and down my calves, first on one leg and then on the other. Her fingers danced lower, down to my feet.

She gently applied pressure to the balls of my feet. "Do you do a lot of walking?" she asked.

"Uh, I guess," I answered.

"I can tell. Let's relax these a little bit then."

Aaliyah massaged my soles, the oil allowing her slick hands to just glide over my skin. It actually felt really, really good. My brain tingled a bit, and I actually felt kind of sleepy. I never knew I liked foot massages.

After working over each of my toes, Aaliyah moved back up to my calves and the back of my knees.

"You had said your thighs were sore too, right?"

"Yeah, I did."

"Sweet."

Aaliyah started on my left leg, running her hands over the muscles of my thigh. She worked her way from the outside of my leg to my inner thigh, relaxing the sore muscles. She gradually moved upwards, creeping towards my upper hamstring and the edge of the towel.

Again her fingers just barely moved under the edge of the towel, rubbing my inner thigh. She was maybe four or five inches from my balls.

My relaxation was disrupted by the knowledge that my cock was growing further. It was a little uncomfortable, squished beneath my body and the table, and Aaliyah's wandering hands were doing nothing to dispel the increasingly intense erection.

Aaliyah's hands withdrew, slowly working their way back down my thigh again.

"Other side now," she said. She moved around to the other side of the table and repeated the same treatment on my other thigh. Her soft fingers dug into my skin, pressing down hard on any tight knots.

Again she gradually moved up to the bottom of the towel. Her hands didn't stop there, journeying just underneath the towel.

I drew in a breath, my heart racing. Was she doing this intentionally to tease me, or was this supposed to be part of the massage?

I chided myself internally. I shouldn't have been getting worked up or excited over this. I was married. I hadn't ever cheated on my wife or thought about it before. But now I had an attractive young girl almost touching my dick. It was only natural, right? I hadn't done anything wrong, I told myself.

Her fingers traveled up my inner thigh, working closer and closer towards my crotch. She couldn't have been more than two or three inches from my dick.

Aaliyah's fingers shifted a little, moving more towards the back of my leg. She continued massaging just beneath my butt before pulling her hands back again.

"Okay, I think we're all finished up on your back. If you could turn over, that'd be great."

I picked my head up. I could feel my hard cock pressing against my torso. There was no way I'd be able to hide it underneath just the thin towel.

"Are you sure?"

"Yep," Aaliyah answered. "You've got a full-body massage, so I've got to do your chest as well."

"Um-okay," I gingerly responded.

My only hope as that she wouldn't say anything. Surely I couldn't be the first person to have that happen with her. She was very pretty, and running her hands all over my body. God, I would never have been in this situation with the guy I was supposed to have.

I took a deep breath and flipped myself over. Aaliyah's back was turned to me, and I re-adjusted the towel over my crotch. It wasn't helping at all; my erection was very visible.

Aaliyah turned around without prompting. Her eyes lingered on the tent protruding from the towel for a moment before just as quickly looking away. A big smile still adorned her face. She re-applied oil and stood by my head again.

She leaned over the table and reached down to start rubbing my chest. She was leaning directly over my head, and I was now being afforded a perfect view of the small amount of cleavage exposed by her blouse. I could have sworn she must have undone a button from when I first walked in. I didn't remember her top being revealing at all, and I would have noticed (I may have been married, but I wasn't dead).

Aaliyah's hands moved over my pecs and shoulders again. Every movement of her hands was extremely deliberate, eliciting a relaxed and calm sensation from my body. But I was growing anxious too. It seemed like she was going slower now, dragging out each action, although I wasn't sure if it was just my perception.

Her hands strayed lower, moving to my ribcage and upper stomach. Aaliyah leaned over me further, her loose blouse hanging off her body. She straightened back up, gliding her hands up to my shoulders again. She repeated this action a few times, giving me fleeting glimpses of that dipping neckline.

She focused back on my chest again for a minute longer. Her soft fingers brushed over my nipples, rubbing small circles around them. I wondered if Aaliyah did the same thing with her female clients. God, just imagining her hands running over my wife's breasts made my cock lurch again.

Aaliyah giggled a little, likely noticing the twitch beneath the towel.

"Alright, I think I'll move on to your arms now."

She stepped to the left side of the table and massaged her hands over my bicep. She moved down to my wrist before going back up, focusing her massage on my bicep and tricep. I didn't realize how sore my arm felt until it all seemed to melt away in her hands.

Aaliyah switched sides and did the same thing for my other arm. My brow was beginning to sweat, both with nervousness and the heat of the room.

"Oof, it's a little hot in here, isn't it?" Aaliyah asked. She played with a button on her blouse as she spoke.

"Uh, a little bit," I said.

"I hope it's not too uncomfortable," she continued. Her fingers unsnapped the button, exposing more of her cleavage. The v-shape displayed between the two sides of her shirt was dipping deeper, letting me see just a little of the inside curves of her breasts. It didn't seem like Aaliyah was wearing a bra. My dick twitched again. Fuck! I chastised myself; I shouldn't have been horny, but I couldn't help it.

Aaliyah smiled again, burning my face a bright red. The tease was almost unbearable. I had no clue just what exactly she was doing, or how far she planned to go.

She oiled her hands up again and brought them down to my stomach.

"You know," she started. Her hands began running over my stomach and non-existent abs, up to my ribcage. "Massaging the stomach can reduce digestive issues."

Her fingers dug a little deeper into my skin, pressing into my side.

"Really? I didn't know that."

"Yep," Aaliyah said. Her fingers trailed over my skin, finding their way to my navel. "It's good for you. You can do it yourself, or you can get your partner to do it for you."

She moved a little lower, kneading the skin at the base of my torso. Her fingertips touched the line of the towel.

"Or you could even come in here and have me do it for you."

Aaliyah kept going, her fingers slipping underneath the towel. My dick surged, her hands barely an inch from the base of my shaft.

"Whichever you prefer."