Her Sweet Persuasion

Her Sweet Persuasion    
     
     “Is your wife stressing you out John? No just kidding.” Her face is a flower opening to receive me. I undress to my underwear and float within the folds of the sheet. My heart beats like a naked calypso dancer’s. She enters the vestibule to fill my desire. Our nascent voyage introduces her touch to my bare skin which becomes a sea of pulsation.    
     Like a hungry cat I return for more. I stand behind her while she prepares the lotion. She bends over before me. The lure of her blue jean bottom entices me into Xanadu. Her hips are cocked in a derriere dare.  This time I request to discard my briefs. She offers no resistance in her acquiescence. She dispenses with the sheet using only a towel to cover me.    
     She blindfolds me with a black eye cover. I unveil my fantasy for her flirtation. I hunger for her to roam my derriere with her knowing fingers. She complies. She explores my bottom in Mandalas of ecstasy. With slow determination she circles my cheeks like a woman on a mission to please her man. I lie quietly immersed in the beauty  of her caress.      
     My lips part for a request to be paddled. She enters the taboo of my youthful desire by lifting the cloth from one cheek. Then she slaps me into manly vigor with hands of soft fire in a hot baptism of my virgin flesh. She follows with the other cheek laid bare.    
     Sunshine spills through the window of the hardwood floor massage room. I sink into risqué reverie while her hands rock my posterior. She rolls me into the padded table with my manhood pressed underneath.    
     I venture farther into forbidden territory. Would she lift the towel from either side of my pubis and dance her fingers up and down my sides?          
     She says, “I can’t do that. I don’t know why I can’t.” Later, spontaneously, she flips the towel up so that only my pubis is covered. Her fingers dance on my feverish skin. I am the master of our session and her tutor in the sensual arts. At the end she places her hand upon my boyish bottom in the heart of my pleasure. She exits and I dress.    
     She prepares a woman client for the paradise of  her body rub. The woman asks, “What does he come in for?”    
     Janie says, “He is under a lot of stress. He doesn’t work.  He asks for lots of glute work.”    
     The woman replies, “He sounds like my kind of man.”    
     As I make my monetary offering, Janie apologizes, “I’m sorry for what I said. I had a bad day. You have bad days don’t you?”    
     Her apology is so unnecessary.  My return is predictable as Halley’s Comet.    
     Our idyll of soul contact turns into a blossoming friendship. As we begin our liturgy of massage, I reveal to her my childhood friend’s change from a man to a woman. Janie’s smile is big as Texas. She asks if my friend has the female genitalia.      
     I say, “She is saving up for that.”      
     Janie says, “So she’s saving up for a vagina.”    
     I say “I also have a masculine woman friend.”    
     Janie giggles. She says, “So does she want a penis?”    
     The years unfold like pages in the book of our joined lives. Finally she follows her husband to San Francisco. For two years I pine for her touch. Then I call her in her west coast home. She is coming back to Louisiana! I am thrilled and my flesh quivers to feel her hands again.    
     This time we rendezvous at my condo. She presses her fingers to my temples. Our conversation begins like we’d just talked yesterday. She says, “John we’re starting just where we left off. Hey I forgot the massage oil.”    
     I look up at her face and say, “I have some grape seed oil upstairs.”    
     Janie asks, “Where is it?”    
    I hem and haw and don’t divulge where it is because of my erotica books which sit next to the oil. Janie says, “You have nothing to be ashamed of.” I still keep the location to myself. Janie says, “Ok, I’m going into the bathroom. You wrap the towel around yourself and go get the oil.”    
     Janie conceals herself in the downstairs powder room. I run up stairs naked but for the towel. I grab the bottle of oil and leap  down the stairs like a gazelle. The towel falls leaving only my magic mushroom concealed. I hop on the massage table and give Janie the ok. She emerges from her hiding place. The thrill of my escapade gives me an erection. Janie ignores my tent pole. She massages me and we chat like old friends as though my pillar wasn’t raised.
     She becomes pregnant. Yet she doesn’t love her husband anymore. She massages me when close to giving birth. During our session she says, “Men are only good for money and sperm. The twins in my womb give me the strength to face divorce and being a single mother.”    
     She calls me on my cell while I am driving. She needs to get out of the house. So I take her to the coffee house. We return to her house and sit in her living room together.      
    She says, “You know John I believe in the Biblical marriage with the man in charge. I’ve given my husband every chance to lead. He doesn’t step up to the plate. Sex with him is well ok.”    
     I reply, “Feminists believe in equality…”    
     She interrupts me, “Why do we have to be equal?” She smiles. We laugh together. She continues, “I’m not the slave of a man just because I’m not equal.”
     Janie and I stand in front of her house. She wears a buttoned up dress and is ecstatic. She hugs me close as a lover. She says, “I’m going to see you every week for massage!” I hug her back knowing that our days of massage are waning.    
     After her divorce she falls in love with a man who won’t marry her. She calls me crying. I encourage her to back off from him. Then she can see if he loves her enough to commit.      
     Holding back her tears she says, “But I love him.” She says, “You are so wise John. I love talking with you.”    
     I say, “I’m glad I could comfort you my friend. You’ve done so much for me.”    
     She says, “I’m going to miss you.”    
     I reply, “I’ll treasure your kindness forever my friend. Go make a good life for yourself and your family.” As we hang up it occurs to me that I’ll never find another like her in a million years. I am an addict with her my only fix.