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the top of her breasts as well. She squeezed her legs together again to try to shut out the tremors that refused to leave.
April looked at her eyes in the mirror. They were red, like she hadnt slept in days. She felt as if she had totally succumbed to the will of the masseuse... The girl had worn her out and then she had stroked herself to one more orgasm because she couldnt get the girl out of her mind. Images of the girls beauty kept rushing to her memory, blocking out any other thoughts. She blew out a long puff of air and looked around the room. She knew she would never forget this room with its lingering aroma of the girls perfume.
She knew she had to freshen up, make herself presentable. She got up and walked over to the basin. She ran cold water and splashed it onto her face to get herself out of her daze. She wished she could brush her teeth. That would have to wait. She reached into her purse and pulled out her hairbrush and started to untangle her hair. How could a woman do this to her? She had been here only an hour and she felt as if she had been having sex for days.. As she looked closer at her breasts, she saw a faint lip impression around her left nipple, the remains of the masseuses lipstick. Her mark, she thought. She left her mark on me. Her eyes traveled down to her hips and she could see lipstick on the very inner portion of her thighs. She sighed. She had to call this girl. She had to have her again.
April walked shakily over to the massage table and picked up the masseuses card. She had said her home number was on it. It was the only number on it, along with the masseuses name. "She made me come for an hour and I never knew her name." Aprils mind was jumbled, the thought of that making her weak. She looked again at the card. "Mary France" was imprinted in red in a light scrolling font. She closed her eyes and pictured the girl again. Mary France, she thought, I think I love you.
April dressed, took a long look again in the mirror, and satisfied she didnt look like she had had sex all afternoon, opened the door. She peeked out, hoping that the hall would be empty, not wanting to be seen, exposed for the sex-crazy lesbian she was. She quickly stepped out into the hallway and made her way to the reception area of the massage parlor.
A girl about her age was sitting behind the reception desk in a pink sweater that did nothing to hide the swell of her ample breasts. It was buttoned down the front and the top two buttons werent. April could see the very top of the girls breasts as she leaned forward to talk to April.
"Everything go alright?
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"the receptionist asked.
"Great," April said. April took a hesitant breath and said, "Do you think I could leave a tip with you for Mary France?" Worried about what the receptionist would think, April found herself holding her breath. Did other women leave tips? Did other women even come here?
"Sure," the girl said. "She was good, wasnt she?" The girl looked up at April with a gleam in her eye. "Shes our best. She specializes in women. I sometimes think she will have every woman in the city converted to lesbianism before long."
"She has a lot of women clients?" Aprils hopes of getting a date with the girl seemed to be fading.
"Thats about all she does. She used to do men, but so many women, especially married women, started hearing about her that she doesnt have to do massages on men anymore. She still has a few men who have been coming to her for a while, but other than that, she doesnt take men as clients." The receptionist smiled at April. "Did she give you a card, the one with her home number? If she did it means she likes you." The girl sat back in her chair and stretched, lifting her arms over her head. Please dont do that, April thought. I am very vulnerable right now.
April breathed a sigh. For a moment she had felt like just another woman with Mary Frances card. Now she felt a little better.
"Yes, she did, "April said. "She said she wanted me to call her."
"Did you have to ask for it, or did she just give it to you? "
"I had to ask," April said. "Why?"
The girl leaned further forward. "She usually makes the women ask. Or I guess I should say, beg. "Did you have to beg? Did you promise her anything?"
"Beg....? April pictured herself lying on the table with her legs open, asking the girl for her number. "Yes.....I guess you could call it that. I was ...vulnerable. She had just made me come and I was lying there with my legs open. Mary France was standing between my legs, looking at me with those eyes of hers.... and I told her I would take her out to dinner. I remember thinking that I sounded like a guy asking her for a date. I havent ever asked another woman out, so I felt kind of strange."
"Dont feel bad. Most women have to beg her; most never get her card. The married women beg the hardest, theyve never had an orgasm before, most of them, and they cant believe theyve had one with Mary France. But she doesnt want to get caught fooling around with a married woman. You know that old saying about a "woman scorned," well...that is nothing compared to a man finding out his wife is sleeping with another woman." The receptionist placed her hands underneath her chin, her fingers interlaced. Are you married?"
"No, Im single, very single,"
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