A Massage to Remember Read online

  A Massage to Remember

  Steamy Sapphic Stories #1

  Lesbian Fiction

  Kayleigh Patel

  Copyright © 2020 Kayleigh Patel

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher, except for brief quotations used in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This book is for adult audiences only. It contains sexually explicit scenes with graphic language, which may be considered offensive by some readers. All sexual activity in this book is consensual, and all sexually active characters are 18 years of age or older.

  Photo credits:

  Original image licensed from Depositphotos.

  The use of photography on the cover does not imply personal endorsement by the models or photographers.

  First edition March 2020

  Khajuraho Books

  20200312-AZ

  Contents

  Title Page

  A Massage to Remember

  Books by Kayleigh Patel

  About the Author

  A Massage to Remember

  Preview

  Her fingers trailed down my stomach, and she worked the area just above my mound. By now, I was pinning everything on the hope that her fingers would slip and end up rubbing against my swollen clit. Once again, I was disappointed.

  Gradually, she moved down to my thighs. She kneaded and pummeled my muscles, traveled down to my feet, and then back up again. She grasped my thighs with each hand, her thumbs resting just below my crotch. Instinctively, I parted my legs. I no longer cared if she saw how wet I was.

  ***

  I both loved and hated working at trade shows. I enjoyed interacting with customers and the thrumming energy of being on the show floor. As a regional sales manager for a medical device company, I did a lot of traveling, and I attended a lot of trade shows. It was a heady sensation, waiting for the exhibit hall to open and knowing that our booth would soon be swamped with customers.

  What I hated was being polite to the men who simply saw me as a booth bimbo and asked me questions that showed they had no understanding of what our company actually did, all the while leering at my breasts. Half of them had no idea how insulin pumps worked. And most of the time, I was on my feet all day with only a few breaks, which didn’t help my attitude any.

  But, I have to admit, a chance encounter with a beautiful woman made it all worthwhile. At most shows, when the exhibit hall closed for the day, the social events began. I’d had more than a few steamy encounters with women I’d met during the show—a night of passion or two, with the bonus of knowing that, in all likelihood, we’d never see each other again after the show had ended. I have to admit I wasn’t much for long-term relationships.

  Although it had been more business than pleasure, over the past few nights, I’d enjoyed dinner and drinks at my favorite spots around San Diego. My first night, however, had been free of social engagements and I’d ended up meeting a woman at the hotel bar and then going up to her room for the rest of the evening. We both understood the rules of the game, and we didn’t even exchange phone numbers. There was no need, when we knew it was highly unlikely we’d see each other again.

  Now, I scanned the crowd filling the aisles. It was the morning session break, when attendees thronged the exhibit hall to get their hands on free coffee and pastries—while they lasted. The booth staff were doing a good job, engaging prospective customers who were walking by and sorting out the real prospects from those who were just tire-kickers. Every show I’d ever attended had a few of them, the ones who went to every booth in the exhibit hall, stuffing their bags with as many free giveaways as they could score from all the exhibitors.

  My gaze was drawn to a spectacular blonde in a crisp business suit who was making her way toward our booth. She must have noticed me staring, for she brushed back her bangs with one hand and favored me with a brilliant smile.

  “I’ve heard so much about your company.” Her voice was low and throaty, igniting an instant spark of desire in my chest.

  “All good news, I hope.” I extended my hand. “I’m Tori. How can I help you?”

  She took my hand and held it just a moment longer than would be expected for a casual business acquaintance. I was already getting good vibes.

  Holding her badge up for my scrutiny, she smiled again. “You probably haven’t heard of our company, but we’re very interested in your new insulin pump. We develop diabetes software for mobile devices, and I’d love to talk to you about how we could work together.”

  I sighed. “I’m afraid that we already have a long-standing relationship with our software developer. We’ve been very happy with them and, quite frankly, it would take years of validation before we’d even consider switching to another vendor.”

  Her face fell but, to her credit, she recovered quickly. “I understand that. However, wouldn’t you agree that competition in the software market can only benefit our mutual customers—people with diabetes who are counting on their insulin pump to provide clear and simple analysis of their data?”

  It wasn’t the first time at this show that I’d heard a software sales pitch, but I found myself unable to send Melissa on her way.

  “What did you have in mind?” I started to lose my focus, captivated by her expressive blue eyes.

  She ran her tongue over her bottom lip. “Well, we’d have to test our software with your pump first, of course, but I have no doubt that our developers can make it work. What if we sold our software independently but arranged for a seal of approval from your company? It wouldn’t be bundled with your pump, naturally, but maybe having a software alternative out in the market would actually make more patients willing to try your new pump?”

  She was good—I had to give her credit for that. Smart and beautiful, with a body that I longed to unwrap piece by piece. “I could talk to our business development manager. He’s not here at the show, but I have a meeting with him scheduled next week, when I’ll be at our headquarters in Boston.”

  “Excellent!” She flashed another smile and handed me her business card. “Do you think you might have time for a private chat?” She rested her hand on my arm.

  God, I wanted her. With the booth as busy as it was, though, I couldn’t just leave everything and indulge my desires, as much as I wanted to. “I’m afraid things are pretty busy at the moment.”

  “Maybe you can squeeze in a drink after the show closes.” She moved closer. “I’m flying back to the Bay area tonight, but I would really love an opportunity to get to know you better. All in the name of business, of course.”

  “Of course. I’ll give you a call if I get the chance.” I watched her walk away, her hips swaying enticingly. Her ass, encased in her navy blue skirt, was so delectable that I wanted to run after her, grab it, and sink my teeth into it. I slipped her business card into the pouch that held my exhibitor badge and reluctantly turned away to face my next prospect.

  By the time the show closed, I was exhausted. I thought about checking up on Melissa for a moment, but I still had a lot to do. I delegated a few tasks to the junior sales staff and made sure they had all the instructions they needed to supervise tearing down the booth. By the time I finished up the paperwork to ship everything back to Boston, I decided I just needed to go back to my room and relax for a while. Maybe I could arrange another business trip to see Melissa later in the month. After all, I did have a lot of key accounts in the Bay area.

  In a
way, I was almost glad for the change of pace. I didn’t have to socialize with anyone that night—no matter how hot they were—and I looked forward to just vegging out in front of the television and ordering room service. However, after I kicked off my heels and sat down on the king-sized hotel bed, my lower back and calf muscles were still sore. While I was flipping through the hotel brochure and trying to decide on room service, I spotted an ad at the end for massage therapy. The agency presented its offerings as “exclusively by women for women.” A massage was just what I needed. Dinner could wait.

  I didn’t have to worry about the expense. My boss was generally understanding about allowing me some latitude when I traveled. I think it was her way of expressing her gratitude for all the business I’d brought to the company. After all, I’d won the North America sales award for three years in a row now.

  I picked up my phone and called the number listed in the ad. A soft female voice answered.

  “This is Tori Allen—I’m staying at the Hilton Bayfront. I’d like to request a massage, please.”

  “Of course.” The woman’s voice was already having a soothing effect. “Would you like our standard or premium service?”

  I didn’t hesitate. After all, it wasn’t my money. “Definitely the premium.”

  “An excellent choice.” I heard the subdued clicking of a keyboard. “Your masseuse will be Nicole Davis, and she can be there in ten minutes.”

  I gave her my room number, rattled off my payment information, and hung up. Ten minutes wasn’t long to wait. I decided to strip off my clothes and put on on a hotel bathrobe. The soft fabric felt wonderful against my skin. I slumped into the recliner and tuned in to my favorite Spotify playlist.

  Before long, I heard a knock and a woman announcing herself as Nicole, from the agency I’d called. I jumped up and opened the door.

  My eyes widened, and I sucked in a deep breath. The woman who greeted me was an absolutely gorgeous redhead. Sparkling, sea-green eyes highlighted her angelic face, and her full, luscious lips caught my attention immediately. My tiredness seemed to fade into the background as I was seized with a sudden desire to kiss them.

  “Er…please come in.” I forced myself to focus.

  She walked into the room, carrying a folded massage table and a small case, which she set down beside the bed. She was wearing an immaculate white tank top, allowing me a peek at her sumptuous breasts when she leaned forward. Her long, shapely legs were showcased to perfection by a pair of yoga pants that made me want to get down on me knees, pull her close, and bury my face between her thighs.

  “Have you had a long day, Ms. Allen?” Her voice sent a thrill through my entire body, making my nipples buzz.

  “Yes. I was attending a trade show at the convention center. I’m so glad it’s over. And please, call me Tori.”

  She smiled again and began to set up the massage table. “As long as you call me Nicole.”

  I watched as she opened the case and set it on the nightstand next to the bed. Now, it was her ass that caught my attention when she bent over, and I pressed my legs together trying to quell the heat building in my groin. Finally, she turned around.

  My cheeks were flushed, and I hoped she hadn’t noticed my reaction. If she had, she gave no sign of it.

  “You can get ready now,” she said, gesturing to the table. “I recommend removing your robe. I have towels, if you want to cover up for privacy. Many of our clients simply dispense with them, but it’s your choice.”

  For some reason, I wasn’t the least embarrassed about being naked in front of a complete stranger. I mean, I had an okay body, the result of a good gym membership that included a personal trainer. However, at just over thirty, a little bit of padding was beginning to accumulate around my waist. My ass wasn’t as firm as it used to be, either.

  “I don’t need the towels.” I shed the robe and climbed onto the table, with Nicole’s assistance, then positioned my head in the cushioned donut as instructed. For a moment, a surge of panic made me hesitate. What if I got really turned on during this massage? I was already halfway there, thanks to my incredibly hot masseuse. Just the thought of her kneading my lower back made me salivate.

  With a sigh, I pushed my concerns aside. She was a professional, after all. I was sure that she’d encountered all kinds of embarrassing situations with the women she’d served. I closed my eyes and settled into position on the massage table.

  I was acutely aware of Nicole’s presence as she moved closer. The delicate floral scent of her perfume wafted across the space between us, and I licked my lips. I longed to taste her, to run my tongue over her skin.

  “I’m going to start at your feet,” she said. “I’ll be using some scented oils, but don’t worry—they’ll be nice and warm.”

  Her hands made contact with my feet, and I swallowed hard as a flood of desire rushed through me. She spread the oil up my calves and thighs, and then she returned to my feet. Slowly, she massaged the soles and kneaded my calf muscles, making me groan with pleasure—a combination of relief and arousal.

  “There’s a lot of tightness in your muscles,” Nicole said. “You must have been on your feet all day.”

  “It was a really busy show.”

  Her hands moved up my thighs, and her thumbs brushed against my ass before she moved away again. I bit back a moan. Nicole paused to dribble some more oil along my thighs and then worked it slowly and deliberately into my skin. I could feel my soreness fading and my stress ebbing away, but I was also acutely aware of the heat between my thighs. I was starting to get wet, and I wondered if Nicole would notice.

  However, once she finished with my thighs, she moved away. I was both relieved and disappointed.

  “I’ll work on your neck and shoulders now.” She came around to the front of the table. I opened my eyes and gasped. Her mound, encased in the thin, stretchy fabric of her yoga pants, was an inch from my face. She reached out and applied steady pressure on either side of my neck, and I groaned with pleasure.

  “Try to relax,” she said. “I can feel some knots in your muscles, and I’ll work on those areas first. Just let go of all your tension and stress.”

  Relaxing was easy if all I had to let go of was stress. However, trying to deny the urgent need building deep within my groin was another matter. With every touch, Nicole was sending signals straight to my pussy, and I knew I was dripping wet—certainly wet enough to notice if she looked in the right spot.

  After a few more minutes of agonizing ecstasy, Nicole stopped. “I’ll finish up on your lower back,” she said, “and then you can turn over so I can do the front.”

  She disappeared from my limited field of vision, but soon her hands were sending shock waves through my body as she drummed her fingers across the small of my back. Before long, her hands slipped lower and cupped my ass. I did my best to repress a shudder of desire.

  She gripped my ass cheeks tighter and then parted them slightly. I clenched my jaw, trying not to arch my back in response. I longed for her fingers to stray, for them to trail down toward my swollen pussy lips. Much to my disappointment, Nicole’s touch remained calm and professional, avoiding any danger zones. After a while, I managed to regain control of my urges and relaxed just a little more, enjoying the sensation of her warm hands kneading my well-oiled flesh.

  “It’s time to turn over.“ Her voice had dropped in pitch and was softer, almost a whisper.

  My cheeks flushed as I realized that I couldn’t hide my arousal any longer. My nipples were as hard as two pebbles, and I could only hope that Nicole would think it was due to being chilled from not having any clothes on.

  I held my breath as I turned over. I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling, and squeezed my legs together. Nicole leaned over me, and my eyes opened wider. I could clearly see two distinct bumps where her tank top clung to her breasts. I couldn’t help wondering if she was enjoying this massage as much as I was, and for the same reasons. The moment passed, however, and I soon realiz
ed I was being ridiculous. She had given me no indication that she was attracted to me.

  She started working on my shoulders again, and I closed my eyes. Her hands brushed against my breasts for a moment, and I sighed. And yet, she stayed away from my nipples, which tingled all the more, longing for her touch.

  Her fingers trailed down my stomach, and she worked the area just above my mound. By now, I was pinning everything on the hope that her fingers would slip and end up rubbing against my swollen clit. Once again, I was disappointed.

  Gradually, she moved down to my thighs. She kneaded and pummeled my muscles, traveled down to my feet, and then back up again. She grasped my thighs with each hand, her thumbs resting just below my crotch. Instinctively, I parted my legs. I no longer cared if she saw how wet I was.

  Just then, her thumbs brushed against my swollen outer lips. My eyes flew open, and a moan escaped from my throat.

  Nicole stared into my eyes, a hint of a smile playing across her lips. “Just to confirm—you requested our premium service, right?” She pressed harder, her thumbs parting my folds.

  All I could do was nod. My body felt as if it was on fire, and the way she was looking at me wasn’t helping at all.

  “Good. I hope you enjoy it. I can see that you’re quite ready for me.” She ran a finger down my slit, and I yelped with suppressed longing. “What…what are you doing?”

  “Didn’t you ask for details of the premium service when you called?”

  I felt like an idiot. “I didn’t really think…I mean, ‘premium’ sounded good, so…”

  She laughed. “There’s a reason it’s so popular. We guarantee that you’re completely satisfied, in every way.”

  “Oh my god.” I couldn’t hold back any longer, as the implication of Nicole’s words—and the sensations from her fingers—finally sank in. “Oh my god. I need to come so much.”

  “I know.” She smiled again, her green eyes lighting up. “Would it help if I removed my clothes, too?”