“Perhaps if I massaged you a little? Would that help?” I suggested.“Maybe…” Libby replied uncertainly.“If you’ve changed your mind…” I began.“No!” she interrupted me sharply then looked horrified at her outburst. “I’m sorry, Mike. Yes, a little massage would be lovely.”“Why don’t you lie down on the bed,” I smiled, releasing her from my embraceWith a grace that made my towel tent still further, Libby knelt on the bed, her curves accentuated by the tightening of her panties.“Which way?” she asked as she lowered her soft body to the clean white sheet.“Face down first,” I replied.I could see the tension in her back and shoulders as she settled on her front, her hands underneath her chin. I knelt alongside her, took her hands in each of mine and drew her arms down to her sides.“You’ll relax better like this,” I reassured her.Then without a word being spoken, I began to massage her body. Trying desperately to recall the techniques Jane and I had learned years ago, I worked my way from her. Funny how that works. I turn the corner. ‘Good morning.’ I stop in my tracks. The yellow cart is ahead of me, to my right. There’s a man about my height in a blue uniform, wooden mop in hand, eyes on the floor as he scrubs away. His hair is grey, almost white, but his blue eyes scream like a 20-year-old. His face resembles that of a puppy, big eyes and round cheeks. I continue ahead of him. ‘Good morning,’ I say with a smile, turning my head to the right. His gaze meets mine for a millisecond before returning to the task at hand. My shoes click down the hall and I feel warm on the back of my neck, as if someone were pointing lasers at me. I reach the fax machine in the main office and I see Chris, the building technician opening the trays. He is a big burly guy with no indoor voice. ‘What’s going on Chris?’ I inquire, one hand on my hip. ‘I’M FIXIN IT HUN,’ he says in a patronizing tone coupled with a wink. I hope you fix your attitude while you’re at it, I think. ‘GET ME SOME.
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