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September in Sydney is a beautiful month. It is the beginning of Spring, where the days become noticeably longer and the air warms as we began the slide into summer. It was why the Sydney Olympics had been held in September, that magical fortnight now twenty years ago. So it was typical that I had chosen to go into the office on the one day of the month that it decided to rain.
Working from home during the virus pandemic did have some advantages, and one of those was not having to run home from the train station in the pouring rain. Which I was now doing, as of course I had left the umbrella at home. It it had been sunny in the morning and well, it never rains in September, does it.
By the time I reached the entrance to the serviced apartment block I called home, I was wet through. Letting myself into the apartment, I pulled my shirt off and grabbed a towel from the bathroom.
Staring at my shirtless torso in the mirror I felt a sudden pang of loneliness and desire to talk to someone, anyone. I’m from Melbourne, but I had taken a nine-month project contract based in Sydney in February. I worked the week in the Emerald City, commuting back home for the weekend. And then the COVID-19 lockdown hit. Work was thrown into chaos as we attempted to complete the project remotely. I had barely met my team, but through video conferencing and phone calls we made the best of it that we could. Once the restrictions were eased, I managed to get back home a few times, catching up with family and friends. So far, so good. And then the second lockdown in Victoria hit.
For six weeks I hadn’t been able to get back home and I was so lonely. It wasn’t that I didn’t know anyone in Sydney, it was just that the team was now used to working remotely and I was still a little nervous to meet friends socially, COVID clusters appearing around my neighborhood instance by instance.
There was no partner waiting for me in Melbourne either, I guess I was wedded to my work and my last girlfriend had walked out over two years ago. On leaving she said she felt sad for me, that I’d never really tried to let her into my life. And now there was precious little chance for a relationship, apart from a virtual one. I had tried, but internet dating had never seemed to work and any friends I had here were well entrenched in marriage and kids so Uncle Ben would be a spare wheel.
The project I was working had been extended, management were happy with me so if I wanted to, I could stay on for a few more months until the launch date. If I were to last the distance, I needed to get some balance into my life. Or at the very least, some time with a woman. Truth was, I was almost always horny and missed the touch, the lingering fingers of a woman as she dragged her fingers across my chest, the soft, tickling sensations from her hair as it brushed my skin, the quiet exhalation of breath across my cheek as she sat next to me, the comfort of fingers intertwined.
My cock swelled in my jeans as I thought of the last time I’d had sex. A Tinder date months ago, pre-lockdown. Jamie, a stunning brunette with a lithe dancers’ body, a smart head on her shoulders and a mouth she knew what to do with. Dinner and conversation had been fun, the sex spectacular, but she made it clear this was a one-off.
Walking through to the living area, I flopped onto the tan leather couch and looked at the room. Depressingly uniform, grey carpet, glass and chrome fittings, a flat screen tv and a standard photo on the wall of the harbour. Dull, and I was getting duller every minute I stayed there. I had a sudden thought. What I was longing for wasn’t just company, it was touch, the touch of another person. At a time when touch was potentially dangerous, but the thought of remaining so lonely was almost unbearable. I don’t know why I followed through with this thought, but after all that occurred later that night, I am so glad I did.
Picking up my mobile, I logged onto a classifieds app and went to the adult services section. Speaking to myself as I tapped at the screen, I read aloud “Masseur wanted this afternoon/evening for businessman, thirty -something, athletic build and interested in good conversation; desperately in need of a female’s touch. Only stipulations are strong hands and a desire to work naked. Will reciprocate if desired, $300 per hour call Ben on…”
I re-read the post. Was I really prepared for this? “What the hell,” I muttered under my breath, pressed submit and threw the mobile on the couch. I walked to the fridge for a drink, thinking “a random post to attract who knows what from the depths of the internet, what could possibly go wrong.” I drank a glass of cold water and went for a shower.
I opened the fridge, peered inside and groaned. It didn’t matter how many times I opened and reopened the door, I knew that inside were only a couple of carrots and half a bottle of mineral water. Times were desperate when that was all I had to eat güvenilir bahis and I was down to my last ten dollars. This damned virus, I thought to myself. It was ruining my life, all of our lives. Yes, I was healthy and safe in a country comparatively unscathed. But University was now online, there was no campus life and I missed seeing my friends. I had lost my job as a waiter in March and didn’t qualify for any government assistance. Now I could barely afford my share of the rent for the flat I leased with three fellow students. Chloe had already announced she was going back to the country to live with her folks, she’d try to come back in the new year. That left three of us to cover the rent for the remaining four months of the lease. I needed money desperately.
I walked into the small lounge room and sighed. Flopping on the couch I took out my mobile phone and flicked to selfie mode. I looked at the face that stared back at me, pursed my lips, fluttered my eyelashes. Here I was, twenty-one, reasonably attractive (or so I thought), long blonde hair, sharp blue eyes. My lips were a little thin, but I had good teeth and a ready smile. Body was okay, average height, smallish breasts, a curvy backside and thinnish legs. Years of jogging helped keep the weight off and now, well now there wasn’t much of anything to eat so at least I wouldn’t be putting on Covid kilos.
Back to the problem. What could I do to get some money, quickly? The jobs I’d had in the past were in retail and hospitality, two sectors badly hit with business closures. Had to think a little differently. I’d picked up some work last year through an online ad, so clicked on the internet browser on my mobile and started to search. After a depressing ten minutes of realizing that there weren’t many jobs being advertised, to lift my mood I started to look through the personals. Maybe if I couldn’t find a job I could find a date. I sighed again. Who was I kidding? It had been six months since my last failed relationship ended. Since then there had been the odd drunken fuck with a couple of off again, on again friends or I had to rely on masturbation and my vibrator to keep me going.
As I scrolled through the ads, women wanting men, men wanting women, men wanting men, women wanting women, I realized that I, too, was lonely. The virus had made it hard to meet others socially, had made us withdraw to our safe yet lonely places. It was so long since I had hugged another with desire, felt a man or a woman’s touch, their fingertips tracing a slow pattern down my face, feeling a shiver on my skin as a lover reached out to hold me. I wanted to feel that touch again, wanted to feel the excitement of being with someone.
Looking back at my phone, one post caught my eye.
“Masseur wanted this afternoon/evening for businessman, thirty -something, athletic build and interested in good conversation; desperately in need of a female’s touch…”
A masseur…a man wanting a woman’s touch. And here was a woman, desperate for a man’s touch. And the clincher, he was willing to pay $300 an hour. I started to get excited at the thought. Two or three hours and that was a month’s rent and a decent supermarket shop. And maybe a coffee and smashed avocado breakfast. Then I caught myself. What was I thinking? Who was this man? How could I trust he wasn’t some weirdo looking to do something bad?
I walked back into the kitchen and reopened the fridge door. Two limp carrots and a half a bottle of water. That made the decision for me. I picked up my phone and called the number.
An hour after posting, I received a phone call. The voice on the other end of the line appeared hesitant.
“Hi, is that Ben?”
“Yes”, I replied, “who’s this?”
I could hear her sharp intake of breath, then a firm response.
“Samantha, you can call me Sam. I’m calling about the…masseur job you posted.”
“Okay Sam, why do you want this job?”
“Well, I like massages, I like to please people, I…”
“And you’re broke?” I interrupted.
She forced a small laugh. “Um…yeah, I guess. But I am good at massage,” she stressed.
“Okay…great. But you sound young. How old are you Sam?”
“I’m twenty-one, Ben. But I have plenty of experience with men and…”
I interrupted again.
“That’s not why I asked your age, Sam, I just want to make sure you’re old enough to know what you’re proposing to do.”
“Of course, I do”, she replied a little testily. “I’m helping you navigate your mid-life crisis and paying my rent at the same time.”
Ouch. Okay, I’ll bite. “You must be a mind reader, Sam. Tell me, what do you think I look like?” This could go anywhere, I thought. There was a pause. Would she play along?
“Umm…you said thirty something…so…let’s just say I’m expecting a tummy, not a six pack, more hair on your body than on your head and a big, fat…” she took her time to finish the sentence. I felt my heart beat a little faster.
“…wallet.” türkçe bahis She giggled at her joke, she sounded so natural and unforced.
“Well, Sam, you’re sure you’re not stalking me, are you? You do seem to know a lot about me, particularly those parts of my body that are…big…and fat…” My turn to let out a small laugh.
“Tell me something about you then.”
Sam paused. “Well, I’m twenty-one, I think I’m quite pretty, smart and all natural, gravity hasn’t started to do to me what it’s probably done to you.”
Feisty. “Smart? Are you sure — after all, you’re still talking to me.”
“Yeah, well, your offer is the best proposition I’ve had for a while. Can’t pull beers at a bar that’s closed, can I?”
“Fair enough. So, how tall are you?”
“Five foot seven without anything on.”
“Well, I do have a belly button ring. And a couple of tattoos.”
A very modern woman, then.
“What are your tattoos? And, where are they?”
“Sorry, Ben, a girl can’t give all of her secrets away at once. Let’s just say, they’re both in places that are hard to see…unless I want you to, that is.”
My cock began to faintly throb at her innuendo. What was I getting myself into? I wasn’t sure, but I was beginning to feel alive, perhaps for the first time in months.
“Okay Sam, we might have to finish this discussion over at my place. Are you in? $300 an hour, mutual massage and I get to see your tatts. And I’ll pay for your transport here and back home. Deal?”
She paused, I could hear her soft breath as she deliberated. “Okay, Ben, but no kissing, no hands inside it’s a deal. When and where?”
I told her I’d text her and ended the call.
I had done it. As I lay my phone down on the kitchen table, I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. I hope I knew what I was getting myself into. On the plus side, Ben had sounded nice, had spoken normally with a slight sense of humour. Maybe he was normal. But then again, who posted personals wanting a random stranger to roll up to their place, strip naked and give them a massage? Then again, he wanted touch, so did I. I was desperate to touch another, hold and be held. However…my mind was racing, going round and round in circles. The important thing was to be safe. Plan for the worst, hope for the best. I could back out of this anytime up until he opened his door and I stepped inside. Just had to make sure I was protected.
My phone buzzed. Ben had texted his address. I recognized the suburb, upmarket, close to the harbour. Looked up the address on the internet, up came pictures of a secure serviced apartment block. I texted Chloe the address and Ben’s number. I told her I was going on a blind date and I would call her later that evening. Then I went to get myself ready, desire mingling with apprehension. Twenty minutes later and I was on my way, sitting in the back of an Uber, hoping that I wasn’t making a mistake, hoping that I would have a memorable evening. Hoping to feel the touch of another person again.
It would take Sam at least an hour to get ready and reach my apartment. Now I’d committed to this, I was impatient but also hesitant. I knew nothing about this woman, she knew nothing about me. Behave, I told myself, enjoy the moment, especially the touch.
I walked over to the sliding door that led to a small balcony and opened it. Although the air was warm, the rain continued to pour down as day gave way to early evening. Raindrops struck the balcony fence, puddles forming on the concrete floor. The white net curtain that covered the glass door languidly rippled with a soft breeze, I could smell jasmine from the courtyard garden below. In the distance a low rumble of thunder indicated that the storm front was not weakening yet. I pulled the curtain back, left the screen door open and watched the rain fall.
The Uber driver let me out at the entrance to the serviced apartment. I walked to the front door. There was an intercom with a video camera on the side wall. It was now or never. I pictured the two carrots in my fridge, pressed the unit number and waited for an answer.
Within a few seconds the intercom buzzed. Looking at the video screen I could see a man with short hair and a thin face. His voice came over the intercom.
I looked at the screen. “Yes, Ben? It’s Sam. Here for…well, you know…your five o’clock massage delivery.”
He laughed. A good sign.
“Unit 203 come on up. Lift is to your right.” He pressed the entrance button and vanished from the screen. Time to play. I pushed the security door open and walked to the lift.
A minute later there was a faint knock at the front door. I’d been pacing the floor, anxious, nervous. I hope this wasn’t a huge mistake. I threw the door open and there she stood. Sam, gentle Sam. A couple of inches shorter than me, she pulled her sunglasses off her face, tilted her head güvenilir bahis siteleri and looked at me. All of a sudden, I felt my mouth dry out and my cheeks redden. She was beautiful. Shoulder length straight strawberry blonde hair, round, wide blue eyes that took me in their sight, then looked past me into the room. Flawless, pale skin, fine cheekbones and the hint of a smile playing at the edges of her mouth. Sam was wearing a tan Burberry raincoat, ideal for the wet weather and to obscure her figure from prying eyes. Mine for sure.
“Well, Mr. Wallet, aren’t you going to invite me in?”
“Sh..sure,” I stammered. My discomfort was obvious to her, she laughed and brushed past me into the living room.
“Pretty dull place here, Benjamin,” she said, “what is it with businessmen and bland?”
I ummed and ahhed and shook my head. I stared dumbly at her. Sam turned and walked towards me, unbuttoning her coat. She stopped a metre away from me and slowly pulled the coat open. I couldn’t speak, my face was on fire. Sam stood before me, her left leg cocked slightly in front of her right. She was naked, save for a black thong, flat shoes and a belly button ring. I gazed at the nape of her neck as she flicked her strawberry blonde hair out of the way. Her pulse beat in her neck as I took in her full C cup breasts that certainly showed no effects of gravity. Small pink nipples pointed straight at me. There was a glimmer of light from her belly button ring as she moved her waist back and forth, I kept lowering my eyes to see her strong, athletic thighs and slender calves. I stared at the carpet, mesmerized. Sam was gorgeous.
“Like my uniform?” she teased.
“Wow. Yes. Um, wow,” was all I could come out with.
“Well said, Ben. Anything else to add?”
“How can someone so beautiful have no money to live on?” I blurted out.
“Well, maybe we are total opposites then.” she smirked, clearly enjoying my discomfort.
I continued staring at the carpet. “Hey, my eyes are up here, not on the ground,” Sam said softly, taking my hand in hers. I raised my eyes and met hers.
“That’s better,” she murmured. “Well, Ben, you’re not old at all, in fact you’re quite handsome, in a boring businessman type of way. So why are you nervous?”
That was one of the things about modern women, they were so direct.
“Maybe I hadn’t thought this evening out as well as I should have. I didn’t expect you to be so, well, perfect.”
Sam lifted an eyebrow and sighed. “Okay, so you’re into the everyone’s too good for me vibe, is that right? Why don’t you try this — I’m beautiful, you’re lonely, I need money and you have some. I’d call that a win-win, wouldn’t you?” She held my gaze as I took a deep breath and exhaled.
“Yes, you’re right,” I said. I started suddenly. “Sam, please, forgive my lack of manners. Take a seat in the lounge room. Would you like a drink? A water, tea? Then we can move to the bedroom.”
“Water, thanks,” she replied and sat down on the leather sofa. I walked to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and two glasses and returned to the lounge room. Sam was sitting upright on the sofa, her coat loose on her chest, the v of the lapels drawing my eyes to her chest, where I could faintly see a hint of cleavage.
I drank some cold water and took another breath.
“Sorry, Sam, I’m kind of new at this so wasn’t sure how I’d react once it’s really happening. I’m not really a spontaneous kind of person and you threw me with your directness.”
The attractive blonde in front of me smiled. “I don’t make a habit out of this either. Unfortunately, when all I’ve got to eat is two carrots in the fridge and rent is due Thursday, drastic action needed to be taken.” She stared back at me, a little defiance in her tone.
I nodded again. “I get it, you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have too. So just checking you’re still okay to do this? You’re okay with me?”
Sam stared back at me and gave a little nod of her head. “Yes, you don’t look quite like the stalker type to me. Besides, my flat mate has your mobile number and address in case I’m not back later.” She took a sip of water, her nose crinkling as the cold water hit the back of her throat.
“Okay, okay. Fair enough. So, to repeat myself, you’re okay with what we discussed earlier? Massage for two, nudity, consenting adults and so on?”
She nodded her head, impatiently at me. “Yes, yes, boy you do know how to drag a party down.” Sam stood and walked slowly towards me. She stopped, pulled her coat apart and put her hands on her hips. Once more I was mesmerized by her milky white breasts, her smooth skin and her beautiful smile.
“Come on, am I here to have fun or not?” She threw her coat onto the floor and ran towards the bedroom. Turning to face me she called out “hey, let’s get started!” With that I snapped out of my reverie, watching her beautiful, round buttocks disappear into the bedroom. I gave chase.
I stood by the side of the king size bed when Ben entered the bedroom. He had laid out towels over the bed, a pillow at one end. Plenty of tissues and a bottle of massage oil. Plenty of hand sanitizer too. It was rudimentary, but it would do.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32