Page 62 of Studious
The spa is the exact opposite of the dance club Danny took me to last weekend. It’s calm and quiet, sleek and sophisticated, all sage green and cream. Danny and I are welcomed and given water with cucumber and berries in it.
“This actually tastes okay,” I say after taking a sip.
“That’s good. Don’t you eat fruits and vegetables?”
“Sure. But not normally in my water.”
“Oh, the worlds I’m going to open up to you.” He squeezes my shoulder.
We relax in the waiting area until our room is ready. Other people lounge around us wearing robes embroidered with the name of the spa, I guess because they’re hanging out post-treatment or staying at the spa all day for facials or whatever.
This is a lot classier than the places in my porny fantasies. Apparently Danny only does nice things.
Or, at least, he does nice things with me. That’s something to think about.
“Villaseñor couple?” the receptionist calls quietly.
Couple.
Alden Villaseñor.
I could handle changing my name, actually. I’ve heard enough Oscar Meyer jokes to last a lifetime. An end to the wiener jokes would be nice.
Focus, Alden. Go get, um, naked with Danny. In a very small room. Where a stranger is going to rub you and make you feel good.
Who thought this was a smart idea?
But I dutifully get up, leaving my spa water behind, and follow the perky receptionist down a tastefully low-lit hall that smells like… something spa-ish.
They open a door, and I peek inside. Like the rest of the spa, the room is modern and soothing, with plants, quiet music, and a few lit candles.
Jesus. I think I actually have seen this porn scene.
But the receptionist is no-nonsense. They show us where to put our clothes and tell us to climb up on the massage tables, face down, with the blankets over us.
I take a deep breath. So, all I have to do is take off my clothes in front of Danny.
Easy.
I don’t know if I should turn around and give him privacy, or if that would seem prudish.
He’s seen me in my skivvies before. And I’ve seen him in boxers.
But he’s watching me as he undoes his tie and hangs it on the chair, then starts unbuttoning his dress shirt. And my mouth goes dry. Where did that spa water go? Ineedsit. Because under that shirt is the sexy torso I’ve been dreaming about.
I know Danny works out. He’s mentioned it before, and I’ve seen a gym bag in his office. The time I saw him when I was all hungover, I wasn’t unaffected. But I missed the full impact because of how bad I felt.
Now, I’m feeling great, and if I keep staring at him, I’m liable to get a boner, and that will make getting a massage oh so much more uncomfortable.
So, instead, I start undressing quickly, not the slow striptease that Danny seems to be doing. While he isn’t watching me, he’s notnotwatching me, either. Like, I can tell he knows my eyes are on him. And I can tell he thinks it’s fun.
Fun isn’t what I’m experiencing.
Danny opens his mouth as if to say something, then seems to think better of it and doesn’t.
Instead, he strips off his shoes, pants, and—oh God—boxer briefs, giving me a view of his taut naked ass, then climbs under the thin blanket, moaning a little as he stretches out.
That moan is going to make it hard for me to take off my own pants.
