Excerpt for Stroking (The Sensing Lust Series) by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

This page may contain adult content. If you are under age 18, or you arrived by accident, please do not read further.


An Erotic Story

By Kiki Wellington

Copyright © 2013 by Kiki Wellington. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission from the author.

Stroking is a 6,100 word work of fiction by Kiki Wellington. All names, characters, and events are products of her libidinous imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

From the Author:

ADULTS ONLY PLEASE. Stroking contains sexually explicit material and adult language. This story is not appropriate for children and may be offensive to some readers.

The Sensing Lust Series

When sex is done right, it can be a feast for the senses.


Although some massage therapists at the local spa give their clients a little something extra from time to time, Claire has always resisted the urge to dance the happy ending hula. That is, until her favorite client triggers a desire in her that she just can’t resist.


Exhibitionists seem to follow Annie wherever she goes, and she loves to watch them—anyone, anytime, anywhere. But when her new neighbor wants her roving eyes on him, she finds that voyeurism is best when it’s a two-way street.


Janet hates her next door neighbor—specifically his loud lovemaking sessions that keep her up at night. But after a while, she actually becomes intrigued by him...and wants to find out exactly what’s going on in his bed.


Alexandra plays hooky from work in the hopes of getting a little nookie from her plumber. And when this hot handyman pleasures her, it’s not just the bathroom pipes that are going to spring a leak.


Although Paula loves her job at the perfume counter of the department store, she just can’t make ends meet. When her best friend makes a business proposition that she can’t refuse, Paula learns there’s much more to the love of fragrance than she ever imagined.


"You're beautiful and your body is flawless. I love working on you. I always look forward to our sessions and getting the chance to touch you."

I was almost speechless. Granted, Vincent had flirted with me before—but never during a massage. It almost felt like a sacrilege to get flirty with him while naked on his table. We weren't there for that. But then again, who said the healing arts can't include a little sexual healing? A million ideas passed through my mind.

Luckily, he stopped my train of thought in its tracks before I derailed the conversation with some half-assed response.

"Are you ready to turn over for me so I can get your other side?"

"Sure," I said, as he lifted up the sheet and I rolled over on my back. I hoped Vincent didn't notice my hard nipples poking through the sheet, but when I saw him staring, it became clear that he saw them—and he liked what he saw.

I have adored the art of massage for as long as I can remember. I always attributed that to my mother—God rest her soul. Rumor has it in my family that she took me to a baby massage class when I was first born, and that she would give me a massage whenever I had a fit of crying. I heard it always relaxed me, and everyone says it was the reason I was so close to my mother. Of course, I don't remember this, and my mother never confirmed it, so I don't really know if that story is true or not. But it doesn't really matter to me. It's such a sweet memory of my mom that I've adopted it as true, whether it actually happened or not.

I do know that when I went to college, I had a boyfriend during my senior year who loved giving me massages—and his strong, muscular touch always led to mind-blowing sex sessions. I loved being caressed that way. I loved the feeling of his divine hands rubbing along my eager flesh. A couple of months into our relationship, I wanted to give him the same kind of pleasure he had been giving me, so I started learning how to give great massages. And as I felt his energy flow through my fingertips, it set me on fire for him—and for the idea of becoming a massage therapist. Over time, my technique improved, and he rewarded my efforts with so much heavy duty lovemaking that I lost count of how many massages led directly to the bedroom.

Of course, that was all about pleasure. Although massage therapy is about healing, it's also about business—not about sex—so when you're training to work at a spa, you need to keep it professional.

And I did.

Well...most of the time.


Everyone's heard about those happy ending massages, but many people don't realize that they're usually done by prostitutes, not licensed massage therapists. So, once in a while, I'll get a client who doesn't understand the difference between a spa and a massage parlor. He'll make an indecent proposal, I'll respectfully decline, and that's usually the end of it. But that's not to say I haven't met massage therapists who have done it for a little extra cash, or even for the kicks. I just couldn't bring myself to go through with something like that.

But I had considered it.

It started when I was in massage school. I had a smoking, hot instructor that I occasionally flirted with before and after class. But I'd never seriously try to get involved with one of my teachers—it's just not professional. I certainly didn't want to be kicked out of school for a little lust, and I didn't want Vincent to lose his job for fucking around with me. So I flirted—I figured there was nothing wrong with some harmless banter. It wouldn't lead to me grinding my naked body against his, but at least no one would get hurt.

One of the fringe benefits of being in massage school was that I could get bodywork on a regular basis from my fellow students who needed practice, or from instructors who wanted to show us what the experience should be like from a customer's point of view. I had never been touched so much in my life, and since I was single at the time, I appreciated having someone's hands on my body on a regular basis—even if these sessions didn't lead to sex.


I don't know what got into him that night. Maybe after months of fantasizing, he felt like it was finally time to move our flirtation to another level. Maybe seeing my naked body on the table was too enticing for him to handle. Whatever it was, I have to admit I was pleasantly surprised by what Vincent did. But I had to admit, I was shocked when Vincent did it. He had massaged me many times before and had been nothing but professional...until that night.

It started the same way it always did—but looking back at the way things ended up, I wonder if it was Vincent's seductive plan all along. I was so wound up that week, but once Friday evening rolled around, the stress started to melt away because I knew that after class I'd get a session with him. I remember laying naked under the pale blue sheet, as soft music tickled my ears and the aroma of strawberry incense floated into my nostrils. I was in such a state of bliss, I thought I would fall asleep before the massage even began.

I jumped a little when I heard the door of the massage room creak open.

"Oh, did I wake you, Claire?" Vincent laughed.

"Well...maybe a little," I said, smiling as I watched the flames from the candles light up his eyes. The flickering fire danced as our shadows were cast on the walls. I thought about how lucky his clients were to get this kind of treatment from him—and how he was worth every penny of the $200 per hour they paid him.

"I understand. How about we see that you really get some sleep, huh?"

That was one of the things he taught us in class: The biggest compliment a client can give a massage therapist is not a big tip, it's falling asleep on the table. If I could get my clients to fall asleep as I did bodywork on them, it would mean I was really good at my job.

"I'm sure you won't have any trouble today, with the way I feel."

"I know; it's been a stressful week around here with exams and everything. But it's worth it, right?"

"Absolutely! Enrolling in this program is the best career decision I ever made!"

"Oh, you do feel a little tighter than usual, Claire," Vincent said as he began rubbing the leg he had just uncovered. "I hope my exam didn't cause that."

"It definitely helped," I laughed, enjoying Vincent's hands traveling up and down my leg. It felt like he was moving further up my leg than usual, but I figured it was just a happy accident. Massage oil is so slippery, it's easy to lose your grip a little bit when you're working on someone. I was sure it happened all the time. And any other interpretation was just wishful thinking on my part.

Vincent started working on my other leg and it felt so amazing. A tingling sensation traveled up and down my body as he rubbed massage oil on my warm skin. Then he caressed one of my ass cheeks—something he had never done before—and rubbed it for a few seconds before covering up my leg with the soft sheet.

I loved it, but I felt a little weird about it. Again, I chalked it up to slippery hands and the fact that I was so tight. I figured that while he was trying to loosen up the kinks in my legs, his hands could accidentally slip somewhere else. I pondered it some more as he started rubbing oil on my back. I tried to get my mind out of the gutter long enough to enjoy the experience. But my stress started to get in the way.

I twitched as a loud "ouch!" suddenly erupted from my lips. It turned out my back was full of tension from a long week of studying.

"Poor baby," said Vincent as he continued to run his magic fingers up and down my back, working on my knots until they melted underneath my slippery skin. "I guess this week really did stress you out."

"It did. But it'll be worth it when I get my license and start working."

"You're going to be a great massage therapist, Claire. I can feel it."

"Well, I have one of the best teachers showing me the ropes."

Another knot in my back made me jolt up as Vincent's skillful, overeducated fingers worked to knead it into submission.

"So, do you have any plans this weekend?" he asked.

"Not really," I said, wishing I had someone like him to massage me until we ended up entwined in bed together, like all those massages from my ex-boyfriend. "I need to study and work on assignments...but you know that already!"

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Vincent curl up his luscious lips into a sweet, sexy smile. "You'll do great; you don't have anything to worry about. You're one of my best students."

"Thank you, Vincent. That means a lot to me. God knows, I work so hard."

"You're one of the prettiest students I have too, you know."

I felt my cheeks getting flushed. I felt my body tingle. I wanted more than the usual flirtation—I wanted a happy ending—but I knew I wasn't likely to get it.

"Oh, I don't know about all that," I said with a nervous laugh.

"I do. You're beautiful and your body is flawless. I love working on you. I always look forward to our sessions and getting the chance to touch you."

I was almost speechless. Granted, Vincent had flirted with me before—but never during a massage. It almost felt like a sacrilege to get flirty with him while naked on his table. We weren't there for that. But then again, who said the healing arts can't include a little sexual healing? A million ideas passed through my mind.

Luckily, he stopped my train of thought in its tracks before I derailed the conversation with some half-assed response.

"Are you ready to turn over for me so I can get your other side?"

"Sure," I said, as he lifted up the sheet and I rolled over on my back. I hoped Vincent didn't notice my hard nipples poking through the sheet, but when I saw him staring at my tits, it became clear that he saw them—and he liked what he saw.

He moved the section of the sheet that draped around my leg and started working on me again. I started to loosen up and forgot all about the sexual tension I had been feeling. What he said probably didn't mean anything more than a harmless flirtation, so why stress over it? As I got more relaxed, I felt as though I could sink into the massage table. Every minute Vincent touched me, a little bit more stress oozed out of my body. I closed my eyes and my mind and body started to drift...until I realized Vincent was trying to talk to me.

"Claire? Claire? Wow, you must be falling asleep."

I was. The warmth of the room, the smell of incense and massage oil, and how Vincent's hands felt rubbing against my skin were all in a conspiracy to lull me to rest. But Vincent didn't want that, so he challenged me to wake up.

"I'm going to have to do something special to wake you up," he said.

I didn't know what he was talking about. Then I felt the sheet slowly fall from my body, exposing my nakedness. My eyes sprung open and I looked up to see what was going on.

"Oh, the sheet fell off. I'm sorry," I said. Although I liked the idea of Vincent admiring my exposed, naked body, it was still a little awkward for me.

I saw Vincent crouched down at the bottom of the table, and I assumed he was grabbing the sheet to put it back on me. But soon, my sexy massage teacher made his intentions clear—and showed me exactly what he wanted to do to wake me up.

"Your body is so beautiful, Claire," Vincent said as he slowly spread my legs. Before it completely registered in my mind what was going on, he buried his face in my pussy and started massaging my folds with his hot, wet tongue. It felt so amazing and intense, as if I could feel every single one of Vincent's taste buds rubbing against my excited bud. I spread my legs wider and propped myself up so I could behold the beauty of his work.

Vincent's mouth hovered over my swollen clit, and he began nibbling on it, little by little, until he took it completely in his mouth and sucked it like a sexual lollipop. I traced my nipples with my fingers until they got hard again, and pinched them with delight as he continued inhaling my clit into his mouth.

I slowly worked my hands down south, caressing every inch of my skin until I reached Vincent's head. I grabbed onto his hair as I felt his tongue darting in and out of my wet pussy. He made slurping noises as he gulped my sweet juices. I started writhing my hips to meet the movements of his tongue, which fucked me harder and harder. And just as I thought it couldn't get any better on that table, Vincent started massaging my clit with his thumb, which was still slick from the oil on his hands. I held tightly onto his head and gyrated as I came and more juices dripped into his mouth.

As I laid my back onto the table, I basked in the afterglow of Vincent's touch, still in glorious disbelief that he did it. Vincent covered me up and all the bad things that could come out of this flashed through my mind. I could fail his class. I could be thrown out of school. He could be fired. I tried to stop the hamster wheel in my mind that spun thoughts of doom and gloom, because the fact was, Vincent made me feel better than I had in weeks. And isn't that what bodywork is all about?

"Have a wonderful weekend, Claire," said Vincent, as he walked toward the door.

"Um...you too."

"I'll see you Monday."

He gently closed the door behind him. I was a combination of satisfied and scared when I put my clothes back on. But none of the catastrophes I imagined ever happened. To my knowledge, no one found out about that night, and even though Vincent worked on me dozens of times after that, it never happened again.

I have to admit, I was disappointed. Every time Vincent touched me after our oral encounter, I couldn't help but get insanely aroused. I even tried to open my legs when he worked on me, silently suggesting that he give an encore performance of that amazing oral pleasure. But he never took me up on it, which left me with that amazing memory implanted in my brain—and piles of used batteries from giving my vibrator a workout after our sessions.

Years after I finished massage school, I was still horny from that delicious memory. And after a while, I would be making memories of my own.


I found my dream job after I got my license: I was hired at the hottest spa in town, which locals considered an absolute haven for pampering and beauty. Although I was able to snag a few clients that I worked on at the massage school, it turned out I really didn't need to—the spa was always booked solid and soon after being hired, I found my dance card was full every shift I worked.

But you wouldn't have guessed I'd do so well from what happened on my first day. It was a disaster. I thought I was going to end up getting fired. It was my very first client on my very first day at the spa and I couldn't do anything to make him happy.

It started well enough...or so I thought. When I came into the room, he was naked and resting comfortably on my table. He wasn't shy about his body—he didn't even bother covering himself up with a sheet. I have to admit, I enjoyed that kind of confidence as much as I enjoyed the view. His legs were spread wide and he had a huge, throbbing hard on already. This isn't anything new to massage therapists—we always see men getting erections during a massage because it's so relaxing for them. We don't take it personally, and after a while, you pretty much learn to ignore it. And since I was working in a spa and not a massage parlor, I wasn't expected to do anything about his hard cock anyway. I could look, but I wasn't about to touch.

But although he was comfortable letting it all hang out, and I enjoyed looking at his cock sticking up at full attention, I thought it was best to maintain my professional decorum and cover him up with the sheet anyway. He seemed agitated by that, but didn't say anything. I just chalked it up to him being on edge—which was probably why he needed a massage in the first place. He was stressed. He needed a release. And it was my job to give it to him.

"Do you have vanilla oil?" he asked me as I started firmly rubbing one of his tight biceps.

"I'm sorry, I don't. But if you prefer scented oils, I do have some citrus."

"I guess that'll do if that's all you have," he snapped.

He seemed tense and I wanted to do my best to make him happy, but I knew he was going to be a tough nut to crack. I tried not to let his attitude get in the way of doing my job. I just grabbed my citrus oil and continued massaging his arms and shoulders.

"Is that orange?" he asked.

"Yes. I hope you like it. I'm really sorry I don't have any vanilla."

"No, this is fine. It's actually quite pleasant."

I was relieved that he was finally starting to loosen up and stop being so cranky with me. He was my very first client and the last thing I wanted to do was set a tone of negativity at my new job. That's not what massage is all about.

When I finished working on his arms, I uncovered one of his hairy legs and started massaging the kinks out of it. His erection grew bigger underneath the sheet, but I ignored it and continued doing my work. If I got excited every time a man got an erection when I gave him a massage, I wouldn't do anything but masturbate all day. Plus, I was more focused on doing a great job than trying to get off.

As I ran my hand up and down his leg, he smiled and hummed. I was happy he was feeling better. I just assumed he'd had a bad morning and I really wanted to make his day better.

"You have the magic touch you know," he said, beaming a huge smile up at me.

"Good. I'm glad you're enjoying it."

"But you know what would make me enjoy it a hell of a lot more?" he asked, still grinning from ear to ear.

"I don't follow you," I said, hoping he was suggesting something legitimate. "Would you like me to try something else?"

"Yeah...you know what I want," he said, placing my hand and guiding it on top of his hard penis. I felt his manly flesh for one second and immediately jumped back, though he tried to hold my hand in place. I was stunned, but I tried not to show it. I knew this kind of stuff happens from time to time, but you just have to remain professional about it.

"I'm sorry, but that isn't appropriate," I said, covering his leg with the sheet. "But I would be happy to finish the massage for you."

"Fucking forget it," he said curtly. "I might as well get the fuck out of here. Just leave me alone so I can get dressed."

That was the absolute wrong foot to start a new job on, but I figured if I pushed the issue to try to finish the session, I would only make it worse. I apologized and started to leave the room, but not before he told me it was the worst massage he'd ever had, and he had no intention of leaving a tip.

It was disheartening, but I felt better when my next male client enjoyed my technique and didn't expect a happy ending. It was just one random perv, and there was no way of avoiding those.


One great thing about working at the spa was during my breaks and after my shifts, I also got the opportunity to pamper myself. Employees were allowed to get massages, take yoga classes, and make appointments for the most amazing facials. But although I enjoyed all of the fringe benefits of my new job, my favorite moments at the spa—other than working on my clients—were the nights I would spend in the sauna with my coworkers.

One night I walked into the sauna and realized the girls were all enjoying more fringe benefits than I thought. I dropped my towel, sat down, and enjoyed the steam begin to cling to my body. The air was hot, but the conversation was even steamier.

"I do it all the time...and not just with one client," said Rebecca as she stretched her arms above her head, accentuating her perfectly round tits.

"With who?" asked Amanda, looking somewhat incredulous.

"Oh, like I'm going to tell you! Do you have any idea what kind of tips I get for that?"

"I do! I've done it too once in a while," Christy chimed in.

I tried to quietly enjoy myself as my muscles relaxed underneath beads of sweat. But I was too curious to ignore the conversation going on around me. I had to know what was going on.

"What are you guys talking about?" I asked, wiping sweat that had collected on my eyelids.

The women all looked at each other, smirking. I felt like a canary in a roomful of hungry felines.

"What?" I persisted. "I know I'm the newbie here, but I can keep a secret."

"Oh, honey, it's no secret," said Rebecca. "Everybody's doing it."

"Doing what?"

"The happy ending hula," she said as she made a quick, back-and-forth gesture with her hand.

"You do?"

Now I was the one in disbelief.

"All the time," laughed Rebecca. "What? Don't tell me you've never done it!"

"No! I mean, I think about it sometimes when I'm working on certain clients. But...." All of a sudden, my first-day debacle began to make more sense. "Do they approach you about it? Do they come out and ask for it?"

"Not necessarily," said Christy. "Sometimes I initiate it."

"And the client is okay with that?"

I felt like I had stumbled into a whorehouse rather than a hothouse.

"Hell, yeah," Christy continued. "What kind of red-blooded man is going to refuse a little hand action from a hot massage therapist?"

"Or a blow job!" Rebecca said smiling. "I give my clients more head than I give my husband!"

"Don't worry, Claire. You're still new. You'll get with the program one of these days," said Christy, trying to reassure me about something I wasn't sure I needed to be reassured about.

The only thing I was sure about was my surprise. No wonder that guy got so pissed at me! He probably got a hand job every time he had a session there. These other girls set the expectations, and I ended up getting shit for it!

When I went home that night, I thought about what the girls had said, and what Vincent had done to me that glorious night. Was this kind of thing more common than I thought? Was I missing out on something by being so prudish about this? I felt a little dirty every time I thought about it. I loved when Vincent sucked my pussy until I came on his massage table. And part of me always wondered if it was an isolated incident. It was flattering to think that Vincent just saw my naked body and lost all control. To think that he just couldn't help himself and had to lap up my juices made me horny beyond belief. But, maybe he was doing it with other students all along. Maybe his special technique was why he had so many loyal clients at his practice.

I decided it was neither here nor there. Years later, it was still one of the best sexual encounters I'd ever had. Why question it? If he sucked more clits on that massage table, it definitely would have made for some incredibly happy women.

I found myself lying in bed that night, wide awake, thinking about Vincent and how yummy it would be to actually go through with the happy ending hula. I thought about some of my clients and how their bodies looked on my table, how their masculine skin felt between my fingers, and how their cocks always made an appearance when they got relaxed. Although we're taught in school to ignore this physiological response, would it be so wrong to give a good client the best massage he ever had?

My hand instinctively traveled down to my dampening panties. I started rubbing my hot clit through the fabric, as I closed my eyes and imagined stroking one of my clients or sucking him off. I wiggled out of my panties and opened my legs wide. My pussy was already on fire and drenched. I rammed two of my fingers deep inside of me and rocked my hips up and down. I plunged my digits faster and faster inside my wetness, excited by the thought of those same fingers, slick with massage oil, tightly gripping a client's cock and stroking him until he came in my hand.

I gasped as I felt my pussy walls tighten around my soaked, ambitious fingers. My cream covered my hand. I was so tired after that intense orgasm, I didn't have the energy to drag myself to the bathroom to wash it. I just rolled over, with a satisfied smile plastered firmly on my face, and quickly drifted off to sleep.


I had a couple days off, but I was so anxious to go back to work, I could hardly enjoy them. The morning of my first day back, I sprang out of bed with unbridled enthusiasm. I wondered what clients were booked for me that day—and whether or not I actually had the nerve to go through with the new fringe benefit. The girls all gave me knowing smiles and nods, as if giving me permission to go for it. But as much as the idea made me hot, I still couldn't help but feel ambivalent about it. I could get fired if my boss found out. And even if he didn't, if I got the reputation for giving happy ending massages, clients would expect that from me all the time. Feeling obligated to give hand jobs all day was not much better than losing the job.

But it was the risk that made the idea so appealing to me. Sure, the girls told me their escapades fattened their purses with huge, juicy tips, but I didn't really care about that. It was the forbidden nature of it that I loved. The risk of getting caught. The look of surprise on my client's face when my hand wanders over his cock and grips it in my palm. The look of pleasure when he comes. The more I thought about it, the more I couldn't wait to try it.

And the opportunity came sooner than I thought: My first appointment of the morning was Jake. He was a regular and one of my favorite clients. Not only was he easy on the eyes, he was always nice to me—asking about how I was doing and showing genuine concern about what was going on in my life—and he was a great tipper. He always came to get his bodywork early in the morning because he was an attorney running his own firm, and he told me that a massage before work always helped him get through the pressures of the day. When I saw him on my table that morning, I knew exactly what I had to do.

"Good morning, Claire," he said as I walked into the room. I started salivating the second I saw the impression of his naked body underneath the sheet.

"Good morning, Jake. How are the criminals doing?"

"They're all innocent," he laughed as I lit some scented candles and turned on soft music.

"I'm sure they're the only ones who are," I said, looking in my bag for my best massage oil, as well as my courage.

"What are you implying? That I'm up to no good?"

"Not at all, Jake," I laughed. I moved the sheet and started rubbing his leg. I ran my hands up and down his tight muscles. Since he was lying on his back, I could see how his body was responding to my touch, and I would know when to dive in. "It's just that you have that cute, little devilish smile, so some people may get the wrong ideas about you."

Jake closed his eyes and grinned. "You know, you're not the first woman to compare me to the devil."

"See what I mean?"

I rubbed one of his feet, slowly taking each of his toes between my fingertips and watching the bliss on his face. "You know this is the best part of my week, right?"

"I bet. I sure wouldn't want to sit in a stuffy courtroom all day."

"I'm not always in court. Sometimes I'm in my office. Other times, I'm at the county jail."

"Well, how can I possibly compete with that?" I said as I covered up his leg and went to move across the table to work on Jake's other side.

"So, how have you been, Claire?"

"Good. I just came back from a couple days off. I love working here, but it's always good to recharge."

I kneaded the tightness out of his leg, admiring his muscles. I kept looking at the middle of the sheet, waiting for a sign that he was receptive to something more.

"I know what you mean. I haven't been on a vacation in years. This is the closest thing I have to one."

"Work must be really stressful lately...you're so tight right now."

I wanted to tell him how tight my pussy was, or even show him, but I had back-to-back appointments, so I didn't have time to go that far with it.

"I have had a stressful couple of days. But you're making me feel so much better...so good."

I took that as my queue.

"I can make you feel really good, Jake," I said as I ran my hands underneath the sheet until it met his cock. I was disappointed that he didn't have a hard on yet, but I was determined to fix that.

I gripped his shaft in one hand, and started lightly massaging his balls with the other. He didn't say a word, good or bad. My heart started pounding. I kept stroking him, but I wondered if he would jump up and run out of the room in disgust.

But he didn't. He kept smiling and moaned slightly. Then he grabbed the sheet and dropped it on the floor beside the table.

"If I'm going to feel better, I need to see it," he said.

I moved closer to him and tightened my grip around his prick. His shaft got hard in my hand, and feeling his pleasure in my palm made me wet. I wished I had enough time to climb on top of his cock and ride it until I came, but I knew that wasn't going to happen—at least not that day.

Jake's breath got heavier and quicker, so I picked up the pace of my happy ending hula. His cock started to twitch between my fingers and I pumped him even more.

"Oh, yes," whispered Jake as the come began to shoot into my fist. He let out a huge, satisfied exhale, as if this was what he wanted from me all along. "How am I going to concentrate on legal briefs now?"

We both laughed.

"Are you ready to have your back done now?" I asked, figuring I should finish the job I was being paid to do.

"Of course!"

Jake flipped over on the table and I grabbed the sheet to re-cover him with it—and recover any semblance of professionalism in that session. I continued with the massage as usual, and Jake started to quietly snore beneath me. When I was done, I shook his arm lightly to wake him and let him know his time was up.

"See you in a couple of days, Jake," I said as I headed toward the door.

"Can't wait! That was the best massage I ever had."

And he meant it. The tip he left me was twice the usual amount.


When my shift was over that day, I felt exhausted...and triumphant. I couldn't wait to get into the sauna and tell the rest of the girls that I was part of their club—and I loved every second of it. But when I got there, the mood wasn't as light as it had been the last time.

"I guess it's for the best," said Rebecca. "It's not like we're whores or anything."

"I know, but I'm still going to miss the cash," Christy lamented.

"I'm going to miss more than the cash," Rebecca laughed.

"Looks like you're not going to get your shot, Claire, now that they installed those hidden cameras in all the rooms." Rebecca shrugged her shoulders and wiped sweat off her face. "I guess it makes sense. They don't want anyone's stuff to get stolen."

"Huh?" I asked. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"You don't know?"

"Know what?"

"Earlier this week, they installed security cameras in all the rooms. It must have been on your day off. So, obviously, we can't do any more tugs and chugs with our clients. I guess that's okay. We didn't go to massage school for that."

"Now we have to act professional," Christy laughed.

I felt my chest tightening up as the sweat poured out of every inch of my body. I took a big gulp from my water bottle, and felt like I would pass out. But I figured it would be okay...just because they had the cameras didn't mean they were watching us all day.

At least that's what I kept telling myself when I did my walk of shame to my locker. I didn't plan on doing it again, so I hoped no one would find out about it.

No such luck.

"Claire, do you have a minute?" my boss asked me as I was about to slink out the front door.

I turned around. He didn't look angry, so maybe it was just about changing my schedule or something.

"Sure, Matt. What's up?"

"Come chat with me in my office for a minute."

I followed him to the back of the spa and tried to ignore the terror building up in my stomach. The feeling only got stronger when he closed the door behind him.

"How did you enjoy your days off, Claire?" he asked as he sat down in his chair. It didn't sound like the prelude to a firing, so maybe it wasn't going to be anything bad.

"They were good. I got to sleep in for a couple of days. I always love that."

"Yeah, I do too," he said, smiling. "So, while you were off, we installed cameras in all the rooms...you know, just for security purposes."

"I heard." I felt like I was going to puke. "I think it's a great idea."

"It is a great idea. Security is very important to us."

"Good," I said, trying not to crumble into a guilty mess.

"You know, a funny thing happened when I checked the cameras this morning."


What I meant was, "oh shit."

"Oh yeah. And I think you know what I saw, Claire."

I fixed my gaze on the clock behind him. I couldn't look Matt in the eye. I was too embarrassed.

"Um...I think I do. I'm really sorry. It should never have happened. He is just so attractive; I got carried away."

"You certainly did."

"Well, if you want to fire me, I completely understand. What I did was unprofessional."

Matt's eyes got big and he started to grin again. He didn't look like someone who was about to fire an employee. He bent down and opened the bottom drawer of his desk.

"I don't want to fire you, Claire," he said, pulling out a bottle of lotion. "I want you to give me a massage."

More Erotic Stories by Kiki Wellington

Running Hot and Cold

Working at the frozen food company is a drudgery for Angela. She hates her job, her boss, and the fact that she has to do inventory in an industrial freezer once a month.

But this month, frozen food really heats up when the hottie from corporate comes to help her work on inventory—and after some steamy encounters, Angela will never look at frozen corn the same way again.

Warning: Running Hot and Cold (7,000 words) contains icy oral, an inconvenient alarm, and the ingenious use of office supplies.

Running Cold and Hot

When her boss summoned her that morning, Angela was convinced she was about to be fired from her job at the frozen food company. After all, she did have steamy sex with an executive in the industrial freezer. But she is pleasantly surprised that the chilly coitus earned her a promotion—and the promise of more white hot encounters.

Warning: Running Cold and Hot (6,000 words) contains undercover oral, a tattletale bartender, and two proud birds in a cockfight for attention.

The Deep Freeze

When a sexology student takes a job at a frozen food company to pay her tuition, she assumes it’s going to be as boring as a bag of peas. But Angela is pleasantly surprised by what’s simmering underneath the surface—and she learns that her deep freeze is actually scorching hot.

This collection (13,000 words) contains Running Hot and Cold and Running Cold and Hot.

The Debriefing

Abby is thrilled to learn she's been chosen for the opportunity of a lifetime—being the lead researcher on a revolutionary sex study. It's perfect: She can advance in her career while getting serviced by several half-naked men. What could possibly go wrong?

Warning: The Debriefing (4,500 words) contains anal action, deep throat oral, blood pressure monitoring, and scientific discovery gone wild.


Alicia had the fantasy all the time: She orders a pizza and embarrassingly realizes she doesn’t have any cash to pay the delivery man. But then she gets an idea—she’ll pay him in yummy sexual trade. The pizza man can’t believe his luck and their encounter heats up while her pizza cools down.

With her husband out of town, Alicia decides to finally enjoy a special delivery from the man who has a reputation around town for bringing something extra with his pies. But little does she know, this pizza man wants more than just a delicious quickie.

Warning: Gratuities (8,700 words) contains awkward oral, bubble bath foot worship, and high caloric naughtiness.

The Houseguest

What do you do when a unicorn comes to visit? You take it for a ride, of course—or at least you try to.

That’s exactly what Fiona thought when a 26-year-old virgin came to stay at her house for a couple of days. Sure Daniel was her son’s best friend, but how could she resist the urge to try to deflower him? The real question was, would he be able to resist her horny hospitality?

Warning: The Houseguest (9,000 words) contains kitchen foreplay, job interview oral, and a dose of titillating TLC.

When the Cat's Away... (Tales of Infidelity)

They’re loving and loyal—at least when he’s around. But when he’s not, the only thing they’re loyal to is their own insatiable desires.

This collection (30,700 words) contains The Houseguest, Supernatural Seductions, and Gratuities.

Strangers With Candy

As a long-time hotel worker, Jennifer is no stranger to sexual encounters on the job. But when she hooks up with an executive at a confectioners’ conference during Halloween weekend, she finds that hotel lust is not just hot—it’s sweet.

Warning: Strangers With Candy (9,400 words) contains rooftop rendezvous, elevator exhibitionism and sweet, one-night delights.

Download this book for your ebook reader.
(Pages 1-27 show above.)