A massage therapist taking his skill to a new, more satisfying level. I rang the doorbell at the appointed time and the face of a woman in her mid-fifties peeked around the side of the slightly opened door.
I stood at the door wearing navy blue medical scrubs and carrying my mobile office; a massage table folded in its padded case and slung over my shoulder and a rolling bag filled with the other necessary tools of my trade. She opened the door wider to invite me inside. Denise had short, gray hair, brown eyes and a slender, yet curvy build.
Her large home was neat and well-decorated, displaying photos of grown children and small grandchildren, and a husband who was likely away on business. Candlelight Massage was a discreet business that I started seven years ago to supplement my work as a Licenced Massage Therapist.
I enjoy my work, but stumbled upon a niche market of women who secretly desired to experience a sensual, erotic massage but had no place to go for such a thing nor a partner willing or able to perform it for them. They don't want to have affairs but they do long for sensual touch, to have their bodies appreciated and explored with patience and sensitivity.
This remained an erotic fantasy for some of the women on my massage table who took solace in regular body work. We never discussed this because any conversation of a sexual nature is strictly forbidden in the massage industry, for obvious reasons.
