Page 20 of Black Light: Cured

Not that arousal toward him in general is unwanted, more like in this specific moment. I don’t need to

be thinking about unbuttoning his crisp, white shirt with my teeth before rubbing out the kinks in his

shoulders.

Maybe his glutes are hella tight, and he needs me to get in there and massage — no. No! I

cannot let this man affect my calm like this. I can’t let my brain travel down these paths. Perhaps I

should refuse to work on him and tell him straight up that it will be hard to keep the professional and

sexual side separate.

Straightening up, I force my brain to look at him like he’s just any regular, handsome client. I’ve

had plenty of those before and was always able to remain professional. If I look at this as an act of

service, I can get through it. I have to.

Once we’re both in the room, I grab the curtain and pull it closed, the familiar rattling of metal

over metal easing my brain back into my therapeutic space. I motion for him to sit on the table, more

than ready to get this massage over with so I can move on to someone that doesn’t make my clit throb

with every word that drips out of his mouth. Again, his eyes drift over the space, pausing when they

land on my lit candle before a smirk quirks up his lips.

“So, Master Aiden, what brings you in to see me today?” My voice is calm and steady, a

masterful facade masking the staccato of my heart.

“I wanted to see you. You seem to be like a slippery eel, disappearing without a trace. Getting on

your table was the only way to guarantee actually having a face-to-face conversation.”

Blood pounds in my ears as he starts to undo his right cufflink. Normally, I don’t allow any

manner of undressing until I’m outside of the room, but just taking off his cufflinks can’t hurt. Right?

Women take off their jewelry while we’re discussing goals for the session all the time. This isn’t

much different.

It is, and I know it. I’m just trying to rationalize. I want so desperately to watch him roll up his

sleeves and show off his forearms. There’s no harm in watching that… right? Stepping forward, I

hold out my hand, nearly groaning out loud as he drops the warm metal into my palm.

The smile on his face morphs from a smirk to a devouring grin. “Make sure I get those back after

we’re done. They probably cost well more than you can afford.”

Like being doused with cold water, all my feelings of arousal evaporate. “Do you really think I’m

going to steal from you? Of all the arrogant, self-absorbed things to assume about me.”