Authors: Chris Scully
Touch Me
By CHRIS SCULLY
Published by Dreamspinner Press
NOVELLAS
Fourth and Long
Inseparable
When Adam Kissed Me
Rebound
SHORT STORIES
Snow on the Roof Anthology
TOUCH ME
By Chris Scully
Touch Me
Copyright © 2014 Chris Scully
Cover Art © 2014 Carey Abbott
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.
All Rights Reserved. This work may not be sold, manipulated or reproduced in any format without express written permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
THE KID WAS NERVOUS.
Terrified might have been a more appropriate description given how his chocolate-brown eyes darted wildly over Erik and then into the shadows behind him as they shook hands. His palm was cold but clammy. His lips quirked as he realized it too. “Ah, sorry about that.” He wiped both palms on the front of his thighs, leaving dark streaks on his faded jeans. “I’m a little nervous.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Erik said with a comforting grin as he ushered the kid in the back door and out of the cold dusk. He always instructed his extracurricular clients to use this entrance. It’s not that he was worried about anonymity; his office assistant and the other massage therapists he shared the practice with were gone for the day, and he’d already given the kid this address and his first name, but he preferred to be discrete. He supposed discretion must seem very old-fashioned these days when everything got posted to Facebook or Instagram, when a good sex tape launched celebrity careers and privacy was nothing but a fond memory. Then again, he considered himself to be a bit old-fashioned despite his current, distinctly non-old-fashioned activities.
He led the way down the narrow, carpeted corridor and past two other small rooms before he came to the one he wanted. He was relieved to see the young man’s tenseness easing with each passing second as he surveyed the immaculate, dimly-lit room with the professional massage table in the center. Erik knew exactly what he was thinking. “I bet you thought you’d be in some guy’s dingy basement, right?”
“Yeah.” The kid shucked his down-filled coat, hugging it awkwardly in front of him for protection. He was tall—the same height as Erik—but without all the extra layers Erik saw that he was on the lean side, and gawky, as if his body hadn’t quite caught up to the rest of him yet. Erik took the coat and hung it up on the coat rack behind the door. The cold radiated off the waterproof fabric. The calendar may have said March, but the weather apparently hadn’t flipped the page yet.
Erik turned back to the kid just in time to see his eyes widen as they landed on the array of dildos and vibrators displayed next to the massage oils on the nearby shelves. He looked away and then back.
Good
, Erik thought,
he was curious
. His body tingled in anticipation of a enjoyable session. The more open his clients, the better the experience. For all of them.
Erik loved his work as a massage therapist; he thought, more than ever now, that touch was the most powerful and most important of the senses. Unfortunately it seemed to be the one we all too often did without. Touch could bring comfort, desire, relief, healing. Pain too, but he preferred not to dwell on that. He was an optimist at heart. With his very own hands, he could ease someone’s pain, bring someone pleasure. For a little while at least.
These monthly after-hours sessions, which he had begun with some trepidation, were now an occasion he looked forward to. Each client brought something special to the table—literally. He didn’t take just anyone. He spent hours online finding the right client, chatting them up and getting to know them before he extended an invitation. He wanted someone who would get as much out of the session as he would. Sometimes it didn’t always work out, but more often than not, they both left satisfied.
To his surprise he found he loved young men most of all. Not for their hard, youthful bodies or tight, glowing skin, but because they were still new and shiny. More open to everything. For them it was all about getting off. They didn’t care as much about how it happened. But they could still be surprised. While they may have fucked like bunnies, almost none of them had ever
really
been touched or shown what their bodies were capable of. Awakening them was his job. He considered himself their teacher.
But as much as this kid was arousing his interest, looking at him now Erik’s apprehension rose. He appeared much younger in person than he had in his Facebook photos. He’d claimed to be twenty-two, but Erik now wondered if he’d been lied to.
“Have a seat,” he instructed, directing the kid to the two side chairs in the corner and taking one himself. He liked to put his clients at ease before they began. “How was the trip?”
“Long. I got a ride down with some of my buddies who were going to a party. The weather is too iffy. My rust-bucket doesn’t do well on icy roads. Don’t worry,” he quickly added when Erik stiffened. “I didn’t tell them anything about this place. Like I’m gonna say I’m on my way to get a rub ‘n tug from a guy.” The kid’s smile flashed nervously. He continued rambling.
“I told them I wanted to check out the college. I’m going. To college. In the fall. I took a couple of years off first—to earn some money for tuition. I manage the local sporting goods store. But now I’m ready. I’m thinking of taking Business Administration—you know, so I can set up my own business.”
Erik waited patiently for him to run out of words. When he did, he smiled. “Well, I’m glad you made it.”
“Me too.” A faint blush stained the young man’s hairless cheeks, highlighting a smattering of acne scars near his hairline. “You’re not what I expected either,” the kid admitted, looking up from beneath long, dark eyelashes.
“No?”
“I was sort of expecting some creepy fat guy.”
Now that he had begun to relax, Erik saw there was a goofy charm about the kid. He had a lopsided but endearing smile, big front teeth, dark brown hair shaved at the sides but tousled on top so that he looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. Very boy-next-door. Warmth pooled in Erik’s groin.
He laughed. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“No! You didn’t.” Another rosy glow tinged those smooth cheeks. “You look good. For a guy, I mean.” He was delicious, this one; the perfect combination of youthful cockiness and coy innocence. Life hadn’t yet beaten him down, taught him how to hide his reactions from the world.
Erik knew he was no model, but he ate right, kept in shape and had been told on numerous occasions that he looked good for a man nearing fifty. He had nice arms and strong hands. The salt and pepper in his short hair gave him an added air of maturity that put his clients—legit and extracurricular—at ease. Still, he was absurdly pleased that the kid thought him attractive.
“So, I know we discussed what was going to happen in our chats online, but I need to go over some of it again.” Erik pulled out his smart phone.
“You’re not recording this, are you?”
“Only this part. For both our sakes.” There were times when he wished he
could
record these sessions—later, when he recounted the experience with George, he always worried that he was missing some important detail—but trust was an integral part of what happened in this room, and trust was hard to achieve if one party had a video. Besides, in some ways his retelling of the experience was more erotic than simply watching. “Okay.” Erik held up the camera phone. “How old are you, Jeremy?”
Jeremy chewed his lip, back to being nervous. The camera had that effect on some people. “Twenty-two. Well, almost twenty-two,” he admitted with a bashful grin. “Another two months.”
“Did you bring ID like I asked?”
Jeremy fumbled with his wallet, finally finding what he needed.
“I have confirmed Jeremy’s age.” Erik held up the kid’s driver’s license and birth certificate for the camera and then handed them back to Jeremy. “You’re aware that this is an erotic massage, right? There will be no fucking, but everything else is on the table. It will be up to you how far we go—whatever you’re comfortable with. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. You can say “stop” at any time. The only thing I ask is that you give something a chance before you tell me to stop. This is your opportunity to indulge in any fantasies you’ve ever had but were afraid to talk about so don’t waste it. Do you understand?”
Jeremy nodded.
“Are you currently high or inebriated?”
“Uh, no.”
“No money is changing hands and this session will not be recorded by either party. Are you consenting?” When Jeremy nodded again, Erik grinned. “You have to say it,” he prodded.
“Oh. Yes, I consent.”
Erik stopped recording. He turned the phone completely off and dropped it in the drawer. “There. Now that’s out of the way we can get down to the fun part. Whatever happens from here on in is just between us.”
Jeremy moistened his lips. Erik didn’t think it was nerves this time; more like the first sign of arousal judging by the flush in his cheeks.
“You said in your chats that you identified as straight. Do you have a girlfriend?”
“Sort of.”
“What does that mean?”
Jeremy shrugged. “We date. We hang out. But I don’t really…” Erik waited. “I don’t really love her. It’s a small town. My options are pretty limited.”
“You have sex?”
“Of course.” The kid made an insulted face. Erik tried not to laugh.
“Okay then. What do you like to do with her?”
“Fuck?”
Erik refrained from rolling his eyes. That’s all young people seemed to think about. In, out, repeat, done. So impatient. They never understood that the whole body was a sex organ of sorts. But he knew Jeremy wouldn’t be here if he was getting everything he needed. “What about guys? Ever fool around with one?” He casually laid a hand on Jeremy’s thigh.
“No way. I told you—it’s a small place. Everybody would know about something like that.”
“Have you ever wanted to?” Erik asked, probing deeper. He slid his hand further up Jeremy’s leg but kept his tone light—just buddies talking. “Thought about a three-way? Or maybe fantasized a bit?”
Jeremy’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his long, thin neck as he swallowed. “Not… not about someone real.”
But he
had
thought about it. “Is there something you wish your girlfriend would do for you, but doesn’t? Remember, the more honest you are in here, the better your experience will be,” he added when Jeremy appeared recalcitrant.
“Sometimes I-I wish she would play with my ass.”
Now they were getting somewhere. “Have you done that to yourself?”
After a brief hesitation, Jeremy nodded.
“And you liked it I take it. What have you done?” Erik began to knead Jeremy’s thigh gently. When he dared a quick glance, he saw that the kid had a bit of a boner going.
“Just… you know… touching. While I jacked off.”
“Ever put a finger inside?”
“No.” Something in his voice said he wanted to. Erik thought Jeremy was leaning closer too.
“In your chats you said that you were straight but curious. Is there anything particular you were curious about?”
“Just what it would be like.”
“What
what
would be like?” he teased, knowing exactly what Jeremy was driving at but wanting him to be the one to say it.
“Having something in my ass.”
“Something?” Erik saw that Jeremy kept staring over at the dildos, fascination written clearly on his face. “Like one of those?”
“Maybe.”
Erik sensed there was more to the young man than he was letting on. In his experience, someone curious enough to want a dick up his ass wasn’t entirely straight and likely knew it. But Jeremy was the youngest client he’d ever had, and he needed to make sure the kid was prepared for that. For some reason he felt an affinity with this one. Once he too had been curious like Jeremy. “I need to ask you something important, Jeremy. What happens if you discover more than you bargained for in here? If you learn that you may be more than just curious?”
“I’m not gay.”
“I didn’t say you were,” Erik assured him. “But many people have a hard time with the idea that sexuality is fluid. They’re focused on labels rather than on enjoying the pleasure their body gives them. Actually, sometimes it’s harder to straddle the middle ground. We’re a society that likes to put people in boxes.”
“Are you asking if I’m going to kill myself?”
“I’m asking if you’re strong enough to handle whatever life throws at you? Even if it’s maybe not what you wanted.”