Lorenzo’s Massage Oil
Chapter One
Charlie had a problem with women. Or as he thought of it, more of a slump. Since his divorce, he’d lost some confidence, gained a few pounds, and overall had become a stress case.
This is when his two best friends stepped in to help.
From Brian he’d gotten the name of a masseuse. Her name was Dominique, and he said she would get the knots out of his shoulders and the kinks out of his neck in record time. What’s more, he said, “She’s gorgeous. An absolute knockout and a real Amazon. She’s 6′ 1″, fit as a Marine and tan as tea. Not that she’s THAT kind of masseuse, but it sure is nice having someone who looks like that work you over.”
Brian hadn’t been exaggerating. Dominique was beautiful, professional and stylish, about 30 years old with a lean supple body and short brown hair. Her features were Gallic and her smile was charming—and she smiled often during the consultation before the massage.
“Is there anywhere in your body you regularly feel tension?”
“Everywhere but a few internal organs.”
She laughed, and her laughter gave him an equal parts feeling of emotional warmth and awakened libido. Looking across from her he could just imagine the feel of her exquisite skin against his, the taste of her throat and breasts to his tongue, the intense pleasure of holding her down beneath him.
But ten minutes later he was the one being held down beneath her, as she gave him the best massage he’d ever had. By holding herself over him on a wooden frame fixed above the massage table, she used not just her hands, arms, but her feet and legs. She absolutely pummeling the tension out of his stiff back, and spent time on everything from his scalp to the soles of his feet with her lean muscular body.
Almost everything, that is. For there’d been one moment of embarrassment when she asked him to turn over on his back. Though he was wearing boxers, the tenting of his cock through the fabric was obvious—he was rock hard. Charlie was actually surprised by this, as the massage up to this point had been so thorough and relaxing that he was half-asleep, but this part of his body hadn’t gotten the message.
But this was clearly an occupational hazard for Dominique, because she didn’t miss a beat. She merely helped him get settled, and then started on his front, decorously avoiding his groin. Eventually his hard-on melted as she continued, and half an hour later Charlie was a comfortable puddle of relaxed and thoroughly massaged flesh.
“Take your time getting up,” she said as she left the room.
He did. But even though it was nearly ten minutes before he got off of the table, his erection had returned, and stayed as he put on his clothes, briefly chatted with her, and gave her a check. In fact, it didn’t leave til he’d arrived home an hour later and taken care of it.
This was embarrassing. And it was even more so the next two sessions. Though Dominique never made any comment nor came anywhere near it, his cock had stayed rigid from practically the moment he walked into her studio.
“It’s like some sort of horrible curse,” he told his friend Lorenzo the next day. “I’ve found both the sexiest woman and the best professional masseuse that I’ve ever met, and they’re the same person.”
The two men were in Lorenzo’s apartment, a spacious penthouse filled with tasteful art and artifacts, some from his life, some from his family. Lorenzo was vague on his history back in Italy, but Charlie had pieced together that it involved ancestors of minor nobility. While to Charlie his friend was a relaxed and funny guy from the office who shared his passion for good wine and the occasional Friday night Warcraft session, he suspected that back home Lorenzo enjoyed a title more exalted than “mister.”
“So why is this a problem?” Lorenzo asked, tipping another pour of an exceptional Willamette Valley Pinot Noir into his friend’s glass.
“Professional boundaries, idiot. This is her job.” Charlie sipped his wine and sighed. “She’s a trained and licensed masseuse, and even if she found me attractive, and I don’t know that she does, she’d never think of doing anything about it. My dick was as hard as a metal bar and she didn’t say anything.” He sighed. “I’m not looking for love here. I just wish I knew a way of getting that astonishing woman naked and under me for a change.”
Lorenzo smiled, hesitated, and then spoke. “Charlie, I know you’ve been going through a rough patch recently with the divorce and all that. If I could give you something so that you could get you exactly that, would that be worth dinner at El Gaucho’s?”
“You haven’t seen this woman, Lorenzo. It’ll take more than a fancy steak dinner to get her in the sack.”
“Not for her. For me. Promise me dinner at El Gaucho’s, and I’ll give you something that’ll make her into a gasping nymphomaniac slut.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious. It’s something that’s an old family recipe. Been a tradition passed down from father to son. And I guarantee you it’ll make her into your fuckbuddy after the first application.”
“Listen, Lorenzo. I’m not looking for some Spanish Fly here or something. Besides, everyone knows there’s no such thing as a real aphrodisiac.” His friend smiled, his dark Italian eyes twinkling.
“Tell you what. Try it and see.” Lorenzo got up from the table and walked out of the room. He returned with a large glass bottle, about the size of a pint, though the bottle was a curved work of art, blown by an artisan. Inside the bottle was a translucent liquid of a light amber shade. It looked a bit like honey but moved in the glass like olive oil.
“This is it.”
“What?”
“The family secret. It’s an oil made from a whole shelf full of apothecary herbs, essences and extracts. Couldn’t tell you what’s in there but I’ll tell you this: it gets more expensive all the time. Something to do with a few of the more exotic components. Anyhow.” He pulled out a small glass jar and poured it about three-quarters full, then passed it to Charlie.
“What am I supposed to do with this? Pour it over her fries?”
“The taste does have some effect, but really, it’s mostly transmitted through the skin. It’s a massage oil. “ Charlie held it up to his nose. It smelled…complicated. Floral, a little sweet, but with some distinct earthy tones, like cumin. “Now, in the normal course of events, you’d be rubbing it on her. That’s the way I use it. Something in the oil, its composition, smell and taste, makes a woman unbelievably horny. At the same time, it’s got some narcotic properties—it makes them feel high and floaty and very suggestible.”
“What does it do to the guy?”
“Not a lot, actually. Whatever Renaissance genius created this stuff keyed it particularly to the female. You might get a slight buzz off of it, but since the times I’ve used it I’ve been getting my dick sucked by some gorgeous hottie I’ve managed to talk into a nice shoulder massage, it’s hard to tell. Because brother, I’ll tell you: you will get the hottest sex out of a woman using this stuff that you’ve ever experienced. Nothing is too crazy, hot or nasty for them to try, and as long as it’s getting you off, you’ll find that they enjoy it.”
“First, I think you’re probably crazy. Second, what am I supposed to do with this? You think she wouldn’t notice if I tried to switch out her regular massage oil?’
Lorenzo rolled his eyes. “Oh come on. I’m giving you magic fuck oil and you’re asking me how to give you advice on lying to a woman?” He sealed the small glass jar and handed it to Charlie. “Use this during your next session, and we can talk about how it went over steak dinners at El Gaucho. When are you seeing her?”
“Thursday.”
“Perfect. We’ll have dinner on Friday. And yes, I’m ordering anything off the menu.”