I had just gotten a part-time job at a Spa in Abuja. I had a good time if I were, to be honest.

Working at the spa gave me the privilege of meeting wives of politicians, socialites and women you would only see in the papers or magazines, not to mention the tips which I got after almost every massage session.

These tips were the secret behind my rather lavish lifestyle in Abuja given I was just a massage therapist. Working at the spa was an adventure in itself, to say the least as there was always something to look forward to every day.

Such was the case on this fateful day when Mrs Bamidele wandered into the reception of the spa where I work. We specialize in hot stone massage and a new water massage technique that would leave you wanting more.

Mrs Bamidele was a goddess whose beauty would leave you questioning the partiality of God in creation.

The goddess Venus couldn’t come close to Mrs Bamidele in terms of beauty and physique. Being the wife of the Minister of Petroleum allowed her access to the luxury lifestyle many women dreamt of.

I had walked into the reception to pick up my phone where I left it charging when I saw Mrs Bamidele looking upset and complaining about how Cynthia wasn’t at work today. Cynthia who had called in sick had been her regular masseuse for about a year.

I mean it was just nature taking its cause. The manager then beckoned for me to come closer and then she introduced me to Mrs Bamidele as one of the best hands anyone could find in Abuja if not Nigeria. Oh, how proud I felt as the words left her mouth. I beamed with a smile, before letting Mrs Bamidele know that I could take her massage session today if she didn’t mind. I

At first, she opted to come back another time, or wait on a female therapist, as it really wasn’t a big deal and she wouldn’t want to put me in an uncomfortable position.

“Are you joking ma?! please make me uncomfortable ma” I thought to myself. I insisted that if she was okay with me massaging her, I was okay with it too.

She agreed, saying her muscles needed some tender love and care as she had had a rough week and desperately needed a soothing touch.

“Say no more ma, I will touch you so good you’d come back for more,” I replied with an innocent smile knowing the s$xal undertone in my words.

I led her into a vacant massage room. The table in the centre with fresh white linens, a pillow at the foot and hole in the centre at the top. The lighting was dim, romantic even. Soft music played and the temperature was perfect. I asked her to UnCloth to her comfort level and I excused her and went to pick up the oils.

To my surprise, she undressed all the way. Her linen dress, panties and her bra were folded neatly on the chair. She had gotten onto the bed, face down, and pulled the sheet so that it covered just her a$$.

I only just realized why she didn’t want to make me “uncomfortable”. I didn’t say a word, I just began. She m-0aned and said my touch was incredible. The pressure I applied was near perfect as I got to the knots on her back. I went a little harder in the trouble spots. I could tell she was enjoying it.

“You’re quite good,” she whispered. “Maybe even a little better than Cynthia”

“Thanks, ma’am,” I replied, “Just relax, I’ll take care of you.”

My voice was different here. Deep and soothing. Professional but s$-xy.

I worked over her back and shoulders and her legs. It all felt so good for her. I asked her if she was okay turning over as it was time to flip and she had no issue. I held the sheet up, separating us and let her flip over.

Before I put the sheet back down I asked if she wanted her br$sts covered or not. Again, to my surprise, she said it was fine. I draped the towel just above her nether regions, a few inches below her navel. The bottom fell high onto her th!-ghs and I removed the sheet. I stood at the head of the table and massaged her chest.

She felt so good. I saw her n-!pples were getting erect, I wasn’t sure she noticed, nothing was said, I just remained professional. I worked my way around her sides and then to the foot of the table.

From there, I massaged her legs. I had already hit her ca|ves when she was laying on her tummy. My hands moved up to her th!-ghs, kneading my muscles in my hands.

My touch was soft yet firm. I went a little higher than usual, pressing deep into her muscles, as my hands slid along the cr$v!ice where her h!-ps and legs meet. Still professional, but damn it was kind of turning me on and it seemed like she also was. I noticed she spread her legs so slightly, but I think it was involuntary.

I worked my hands on her body like magic, then I came back to the head of the bed. I replenished the oil on my hands and gently began to rub her stomach.

“Some clients like their tummy massaged, some don’t. What about you ma’am?”

“Yes please,” she said in a semi-unconscious state.

I poured a bit of oil on her tummy. Some seeped into her navel. I lightly began to touch her. My hands went lower, to just above the towel. I rubbed her gently and then my hands slid under the towel, just a little.

She m-0aed and spread her legs a little more. My hands went farther as I scooted closer to the head of the table. I bent over and moved my hands a little farther. My fingers were again along the cre-v!ce of her hips and upper thighs. She let out a sigh and I had an evil smile on my face.

“Is that okay?” I whispered.

“Yes, oh yes. It feels amazing,” she stammered back, barely able to get the words out.

“Just relax ma’am,” I said as my fingers pressed inward, pushing her p-v$$y ....................

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