The Rub Down

I’d never been this aware of my own heartbeat. The dim, amber-lit room smelled of sandalwood and eucalyptus, and the soft, steady drip of a water feature was the only sound besides my own shallow breathing. Across the massage table, my new boss, Evelyn, unbuttoned the crisp white cuffs of her blouse with a slow, deliberate precision that made my mouth go dry.

“Relax, Daniel. It’s just a team-building exercise.”

Her voice was low, a smooth contralto that didn’t match the sharp, commanding tone I knew from the office. Here, at her private studio ‘Aetherium,’ the rules were different. I was shirtless, lying face down on heated silk, and she was the one in charge of the oils.

I felt the first warm drop hit the center of my back. Her hands followed, sliding up my spine with a firm, knowing pressure.

“You’re incredibly tense. All those long hours I’ve been assigning you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Evelyn. Here, you call me Evelyn.”

Her thumbs dug into the knots along my shoulders, and I couldn’t suppress a groan. It was a sound of relief, and something else. Her hands moved lower, skimming the waistband of the loose linen pants they’d given me. Every pass felt less clinical, more exploratory. When her fingertips traced the curve of my ass, I stopped breathing.

“Turn over.”

I did, my cock already half-hard and straining against the thin fabric. She didn’t pretend not to notice. Her dark eyes tracked its outline, a faint smile touching her lips. She reached for a new bottle, pouring clear oil into her palm.

“This is for deep tissue,” she murmured, though the label said jasmine.

Her hand closed around me, not over the linen, but underneath it, her slick, warm fingers wrapping my shaft in one fluid motion. I gasped, my hips bucking off the table.

“Evelyn…”

“Shhh. This is part of the service. Employee wellness.”

She worked me slowly, her grip perfect, her thumb swiping over the head to spread the pre-cum. With her other hand, she began unbuttoning her blouse. Each button was a tiny, agonizing click. The fabric parted to reveal a lace bra, then she let the blouse slide off her shoulders. She wasn’t wearing a skirt, just those tailored trousers.

“Do you want me to stop, Daniel?”

“No. God, no.”

“Good.”

She leaned over, her breasts hovering above my mouth. “Unhook it.”

I fumbled with the clasp, my fingers clumsy. The lace fell away, and her tits were full and heavy in my hands. I took a nipple into my mouth, sucking hard as she moaned and ground her palm against my cock.

“Stand up,” she ordered, stepping back to shuck her trousers and panties in one fierce movement.

I stood, the linen pants pooling at my feet. She pushed me back against the table, her hand still on my dick, guiding me toward her. She was already wet, her pussy glistening. She didn’t wait, just sank down onto me in one slow, breathtaking drop, her head falling back.

“Fuck… you’re big.”

Her inner muscles clenched around me, hot and tight. She began to ride, setting a deep, rolling rhythm, her nails digging into my chest. I grabbed her hips, helping her move, our skin slapping together in the quiet room.

“Harder,” she whispered, her corporate mask gone, replaced by a raw, hungry need. “Don’t you dare hold back on me.”

I flipped us, laying her back on the silk. I drove into her, my pace frantic now. Her legs locked around my back, her heels urging me on. The table rocked, the water feature’s drip lost under the sound of her cries.

“I’m gonna cum,” I grunted, feeling the coil in my gut ready to snap.

“Inside me,” she demanded, her eyes blazing. “Now.”

I slammed into her one last time, my release pulsing deep into her pussy as she shuddered and clenched around me, her own orgasm tearing a ragged scream from her throat.

We lay there for a long time, just breathing, tangled in silk and sweat. Her fingers traced idle patterns on my damp back.

“You start at nine tomorrow,” she finally said, her voice back to its usual cool composure, though her smile was new. “Don’t be late.”