The Masseuse. Marianne Brun

her on his cock as it grew limp and he stroked her erect nipples until his penis slid out. That was the beginning of their affair.

      Her boss wouldn’t take the chance of doing it in the office again, so he and Sarah had become bold, meeting upstairs at lunch time. It was not him she sought, not his face, hands or body, but the desire to be filled. She woke every morning thinking of one thing and had to touch herself in bed. She re-lived the feeling of the cleaner’s eyes on her and imagined him climbing through the opened windows with his thick erection in her hands. She would touch her already wet crotch as she imagined him grabbing her from behind.

      After months of her growing sexual appetite, Sarah knew she couldn’t go on as she had, so she went on a tour of full-service parlors. She was brought down dimly lit stairs to shady rooms, where she imagined lying back like a dummy. She would have no say there. The men would use her then throw her away. It did not excite her.

      When she discovered massage parlors, she knew what she wanted. She wanted to be watched, to bring a man to bursting point and have the power to step back. She realized it was her own body she had fallen in love with by seeing it through another’s eyes on those dusky afternoons. She had made a play of leaning against walls, bringing her skirt up and teasing her boss by rubbing herself. It was this she loved more than his taking of her. She had awoken to herself.

      Sarah made Jade forget her misgivings. Those moments of standing alone and naked with a strange man were erased by the excited chatter. Sarah was so alive. They were so different in their manner yet the lives they had lived up to this were similar.

      “I’m so glad you’re here,” Sarah told her, and Jade pictured bringing Sarah home to Colin and the sly glances between them. He would watch her with hungry eyes, she had no doubt. Sarah left men with little choice.