Page 43 of All I Wank for Christmas

Once in my massage room, I wave toward the table like I couldn’t care less if the man gets on it. “Go ahead and get comfortable. Take your pants off.”

The man looks at the table and climbs on. “Linda Two always warms her hands and tells me a joke.” He kicks his shoes off.

“Do I look like a comedian? Is this an improv show?” I ask. The man cringes and averts his eyes to the ceiling. “Isn’t it enough that I’m going to yank on your dick? Do you want me to tap dance while I’m at it? Maybe saw a coworker in half? Am I a fucking magician too?”

“No, sorry. I, uh, just thought it was fun. It relaxes me.”

I blow out a sigh as the man closes his eyes, probably not wanting to look at the surly bitch putting on rubber gloves. I shouldn’t be mean to him. He doesn’t have a wife, as evidenced by the lack of a wedding ring. Unless he has a girlfriend, he’s not a cheater like some guys that come in here. Something tells me that’s not an option with him. This is literally his release, something to fill his needs so he can function in society without going on a rampage due to lack of sex. He pays cold, hard cash. Mom’s meds are low, and the prescription price just went up. I certainly need cold, hard cash.

I put my hands on the table and don’t even wipe my face as tears eke out my eyes. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to bitch at you. I’m usually a friendly tugger, but it’s been a bad week.”

The man covers his dick and looks at the ceiling. “Um, are we going to talk about it?”

“I won’t burden you with my bullshit. That’s not why you’re here.”

“I’m a bartender. I’m used to it. Spill.” He may be looking at my tits, but his voice is kind.

Now I really feel like an asshole. I may have judged him for his worn pants and his missing tooth, but he could be a nice guy. A drunk patron could have knocked the tooth out, and he may be as broke as my family, not able to afford a thousand-dollar dental implant. A hundred-dollar hand job, funded by half a night’s tips, may be all he can afford to brighten his life.

“It’s mental, and you’ll run screaming from the room.”

“I’ve heard some shit in my day. Try to dazzle me with something new, sweetheart.”

“I was swept away by Santa Claus’s son last week. He took me on a sleigh ride to help with inventory after I gave him a great hand job. We got caught a couple times, he was arrested wearing assless chaps, and I had to punch the punch cards of most of the police force to get him out of jail. We had the best sex of my life in the sleigh while the reindeer watched, and we played with someone else’s anal bead wand and dildo before boxing them up as new. He dropped me off after the delivery, and I haven’t heard from him since.”

Silence fills the room until the man bites his lip. His eyes widen. “I’ve never heard shit like that, young lady. Are you OK? Are you willing to talk to a professional?”

I turn away from him and reach for the lube on the cabinet. “I’m fine. Drop your pants. Let’s get this party started.”

He undoes his pants and pulls them down so I can see he’s at full mast. His short, veiny dick bobs in his huge nest of pubic hair, and I heave out a sigh. Can you miss a guy’s manscaped area? Is that a thing? Tears form in my eyes but not for the ugly dick in front of me. Tears form because I miss Jasper’s body. All of it.

As I reach for the man’s cock to grip the base, a scuffle comes from the hallway. Beyond the doorway, Linda One yells something inaudible. The man on the table leans up onto his elbows and turns his ear toward the door.

I freeze. Is someone hurting Linda One? Is there a disgruntled client? I move to lock the door as a heavy weight sinks into my stomach.

“I just want to talk to her,” a voice says, coming closer.

I know that voice!

“Jasper?” I yell, dropping the bottle of lube in my hand so that it falls on the table and squirts everywhere. I’ll clean it up later.

I’m halfway to the door when it bursts open, and Jasper enters the room in dark jeans, a black sweater with the sleeves pushed up past his forearms, and some kind of waterproof boots with laces untied at the top. He looks positively yummy. Relaxed. Handsome.

Mine. I want him to be mine.

He startles at the sight of the man on the table, my rubber gloves, and the man wiping a glob of lube off his forehead. Jasper squints and reddens. “Uh…sorry, bro. I just need to talk to Holly for a few moments.”

Jasper reaches for my hand and then pulls his hand back, looking at my gloves and cringing. He looks at his own hands like he’s unsure if he touched me yet.

“Oh, I haven’t started yet. Clean gloves.” I wave my hands in the air like I’m making jazz hands.

“Good. I’m in time.”

“Um, am I going to be jerked off?” the man on the table asks. “I paid money for this.”

“I’ll be with you in a moment, sir,” I say as Linda One comes into the room, gasps, and closes the door. She probably doesn’t want the outburst to disturb other clients or doesn’t want someone walking by to see the man’s dick as he relaxes prone on the table like none of this is awkward.

“What are you doing here, Jasper?” I ask, letting him take my hands.

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