Asphixiation/Breath Control

[lovingfingers]

Hello!

I am looking to write a thread with a lady intrigued with the sexual aspects of asphyxiation and breath control. Please PM if you are feeling short of breath.

Cheers!

 

[lovingfingers]

It had started innocently enough, or at least as innocently as sexual role play can be.

I had been watching porn when I saw a scene in which the guy had held the gal's throat while he fucked her. They both looked very much into it and I was surprised that it had left me highly aroused.

A few days later, I made a casual web search and found quite a number of stories, and precious few movies, about asphyxiation during sex. One of them was on Literotica.

In so far as I did not have a partner who might be into something like that, I thought Lit might be a fun place to explore. I set up a thread and was pleasantly surprised to find a skillful co-author. The thread turned out to be exceptionally hot, and each of us expressed admiration for the other and expressed the idle desire to try these things out in real life. A week later, an off comment revealed that we didn't live far from each other.

I knew I had to meet her. Even if nothing happened, I liked her and was fascinated by her. We selected a neutral location, a coffee shop in the city near to us both.

The day arrived. I selected earth tones to wear. Somehow black would have seemed over the top. The chinos and linen shirt accented my tall frame. Being the punctual sort, I arrived early, purchased an iced tea, and settled into wait.

 

[Sensual_Goddess]

Anonymous research is what I had convinced myself I was doing. Harmless enough, right?

Hey, what do you think about erotic asphyxiation? isn't an ideal ice breaker. The one time I had worked up the courage to mention it on a date, just as an oddity, not a proclivity, my date had found an excuse to call it an evening early. So, I turned to the Internet, cornucopia of all things odd and perverted. I wasn't really looking for someone to do this, just someone to discuss it. That's what I told myself as I read his words for the first time. When he responded to my reply to his thread request, I reminded myself this was all on line fantasy, no harm could come from it. I could simply stop the correspondence if it got to be too much.

The story we conceived was much more than interesting to me; it was like a dare, beckoning me to try it. But I knew that just once could be it, alpha and omega. That was a sobering thought, even when my body longed for it on some deep, intuitive level. My small town upbringing kept me on this side of caution more often than not. The fear of being caught, found out to be a deviant, was ingrained in me from my earliest years. Fear of demise was second to that, but really, that was part of the draw, too. How close to the edge I wanted to dance was something I ached to know, feel, experience completely. Fantasizing about it was losing its thrill.

When we discovered, quite through accident, that distance was, in fact, not an object, I felt a rush. I agreed to meet him, in a very public place, to see if we clicked. No promises or expectations, just a conversation and a cup of coffee. If there was nothing, we could walk away knowing we had pushed the limits and made the effort. If there was something? I didn't know how to plan for that. It would just have to happen.

I dressed casually, jeans and a black v-neck cotton shirt. The shirt was clingy enough to accentuate my curves, and showed my neck and cleavage without being overtly revealing. My hair was getting longer than I normally wore it, and I fussed with it for more minutes than usual before deciding on a simple ponytail. A last glance in the full length mirror on my bedroom door reflected what I hoped appeared to be a confident woman with a casual attitude.

The urge to flee struck me with some ferocity as my hand contacted the cold metal handle of the door to the coffee shop. I left my sunglasses on, maintaining the last shred of anonymity I had available, while I searched the shop for him. I noticed his hands first; one on the surface of the table, the other wrapped around a tall glass. I felt a shiver as I imagined those hands on me, on my neck, holding me with enough force to render me breathless. I already felt the fluttery sensation that accompanies the thrill of the unknown; that giddy feeling anticipation.

"Hello, I'm Beth. I think you were expecting me?" I held out my hand in greeting before taking the seat across from him.

 

[lovingfingers]

From where I was sitting, I did not see you until you were upon me. I had about a step to slide my eyes from your hips to your eyes and smile as you held out your hand to me. I took it and prepared to rise, but you seated yourself smoothly across from me.

I released your hand, but not my look into your eyes. I involuntary purr formed in the back of my throat as I replied, "Beth, you have already exceeded any expectations. I'm Sean."

I watch you smile as I take a moment to get a sense of you, first impressions and all. My first, instinctive male reaction is "yes, I would do her." As I recall the feel of your hand and get a moment to really see you, I clarify, "Mmm, yes, I would really like to do her."

And now that that is out of the way, I want to get to know you. A waiter arrives, asking if you would like anything. You order and we make small talk as we wait. The waiter returns and then leaves us in peace.

"So, where to begin," I venture, "When I am not writing on Lit, I am a massage therapist. In light of our discussion, I have been reacquainting myself with the finer points of anatomy and physiology. I like what I do as a profession, but it does have its down sides."

I paused, looking at you, "I love the way you write. It is a pleasure to meet you."

I watch you take a sip of your beverage, the way your lips curve around the cup. I wonder what it is like to kiss such luscious lips, or what shapes they take when you are pleasured.

 

[Sensual_Goddess]

There is no question I am immediately attracted to you. All the written words we had shared, the intimate exchanges, had bestowed a level of intimacy to our meeting before it ever happened. As you toyed absently with a line of condensation on the glass in front of you, I felt the urge to reach out and follow the path of the water droplet with you, rest my finger against yours and share the cold. I wonder if you feel the attraction as well. The waiter arrives and the moment evaporates before I have the opportunity to ask.

Small talk is always awkward; both parties know it's simply a time holder, something to fill the space between two people who are unsure of the expectations of the other. And while we agreed to meet with our purpose roughly defined, the intricacies were vague. I don't want to delve into anything beyond the weather before my iced coffee arrives, so we chat about the recent rain until my drink is before me. When the waiter disappears, you begin by telling me a little about yourself, the details we haven't shared on line.

Massage therapy? No wonder you have great looking hands, I think to myself. Now, I can't stop myself from reaching across the table to rest my fingers on your free hand while you talk. That instantaneous warmth that develops with flesh to flesh contact spreads well past the pads of my fingers. I can feel my face warming in a blush, my lips smiling. The physical desire is already beginning to override my sense of caution about you. I remind myself to take things slow.

"It's my pleasure to meet you, too," I respond. "I admit I was afraid of who might show up here today, but so far, you aren't too scary at all."

I hope my smile belies the fact that it was a joke, and proceed to tell him a little about me that we haven't already shared.

"I've been a teacher for 5 years, after changing majors a few times in college before deciding which route to go. Do I love it? No, but it's good hours, okay pay, and a nice vacation. There are worse things I could have decided to do."

I pause, look into his eyes, gage the level of interest in the conversation. His smile is warm, his hand feels nice as I continue to rest my fingers there.

"So, what else would you like to know?" I ask, knowing full well that same question will be coming for me next.

There is so much I want to learn about this handsome man across from me, I don't even know where to start.

 

[lovingfingers]

I grin broadly at your scary joke. A sense of humor, another point in your favor.

Your hand on mine is a distraction though. I want to take your hand and pull you to me, but as much as I am attracted to you, its not time for that, yet.

What else do I want to know? I take your hand and turn it palm up. Releasing my glass of tea, I run a cool, wet finger over your palm to the inside part of your wrist. I circle there lightly, beginning, "I would like to know how sensitive you are."

Not getting an immediate verbal response, I trace up your arm a few inches, then sweep back down, asking, "When was your last massage?"

Things were heating up far quicker than I had anticipated. I really wanted to get my hands on you, all over you, everywhere, now, and knew where that would lead...

 

[Sensual_Goddess]

"I would like to know how sensitive you are."

I am momentarily silenced by the question and your hand manipulating mine. At first, I think you are simply going to hold my hand while I speak. The palms of my hands have always been extremely sensitive, and when I feel your fingertips gliding along the surface of this open errogenous zone, I feel the blood rushing there. Words just won't form while you are caressing that tender flesh. And though I am silent, I know my reaction gave you the answer you were seeking. Sharp intake of breath, stifled gasp, involuntary shudder, all dead give aways to what your touch was doing to me.

I glance down to see your hand moving up, over the soft skin of my wrists, then back to my palm, which my now, was beginning to ache for that touch of your obviously talented hands, professionally trained in the art of touch. I barely hear you ask your question, I'm so lost in the sensation of your fingers on my arm, wanting you to touch other places. Somewhere in the back of my mind I hear that cautious part of me screaming to Stop! stop right now before...But I know, before is gone. Now is all I know.

"It's been a long, long time," I whisper, looking back up at you.

A massage is a bit of a luxury on a teacher's salary, and I could count on one hand the times I had made that splurge. The last time had been over a year ago. Unless I count now. I know, even if you don't touch me anywhere else, my entire body is going to feel this for awhile.

 

[lovingfingers]

I grin a little and softly say, "As a health care professional, I would advise you to get massaged more frequently. It does wonders for one's blood pressure, muscle tone, mental and overall well being."

I enjoy just running my finger up and down your forearm, delighted at how your body reacts. I can feel the heat rolling off you, and it matches mine. In my practice, I don't allow myself the luxury of enjoying what I do. But right now? Oh wow!

I close my eyes briefly and focus on "feeling" you, getting to know the energy of your flesh, and what you need. My own desire clouds my perception perhaps, as I feel your desires to be touched intimately. My body responds as my cock hardens and my heart beats harder.

Without thinking, I say, "If you are free this evening, perhaps you would like to lie on my table?"

 

[Sensual_Goddess]

I had made plans with a friend tonight, for the specific purpose of preventing me from going to far with you on our first meeting. But how was I going to turn down a massage, after I had felt what your hands could do to me just by touching my hand? Now, even that voice in my head that had been screaming at me to use caution, go slow, stop, was silent. It had packed up and left with reason, knowing there was no way they could compete with the rest of my body's demands.

What could I say that wouldn't betray everything I was feeling right now? Would you know by the trembling in my voice, no matter what I replied, how deeply drawn to you I was after just this short time? Of course, I had fantasized about you from the day we met on line, and the fantasies had grown more detailed as our story progressed. Had I known your profession before now, I know I would have been including that in my dreams, as well.

"My schedule is flexible," I answer, finally, when your fingers pause over my wrist. "But I wouldn't want you to I was taking advantage of your offer," I added.

Your hands, on me, everywhere, oh, god how I want that right this minute. I wonder what time you consider evening, already deciding to call Gia and reschedule our outing. I know she would drop me in a heartbeat for a massage with someone who looked like you, given the chance.

 

[lovingfingers]

My face froze for a second after I had made the offer. We had just met and I was inviting you over to get naked. Neither of us was so naive as to think that it had been a therapeutic offer.

And then you said yes, and I grinned widely, "And I wouldn't want you to think I was taking advantage of you." God, I wanted to get my hands on you!

I released your hand, reluctantly, and pulled out my phone. Scrolling over my schedule, I offer, "I have appointments until 5:30. How about 7:00?"

I pull an appointment card from my pocket, mentioning, "I generally use these for my practice, but it has all my info."

I take a pen and poise it above the appropriate line on the card, joking, "Shall I write down your appointment time?"

It is a pleasure to watch you giggle and laugh. Your breasts sway invitingly, and I find myself feeling a bit flushed, and hard.

"Will you excuse me for a moment? I need more tea. Do you want anything?" I ask, sliding from my chair and standing next to the table. I know, without looking, that my cock is forming a bulge in my pants. Looking down at you for the first time, I am afforded a lovely down blouse view of your cleavage. Tonight cannot come too quickly...

 

[Sensual_Goddess]

Do I want anything? Nothing the barrista can whip up, I think to myself. What I want is for it to be 7:01. I'll be counting the minutes all day.

"I'm good," I say, toying with the card you handed me.

When you turn to walk away I glance down at the square of cardstock. Such an innocent looking reminder for an appointment. I slip the card into my wallet and reach for my phone. I might as well call Gina now, let her know I've made other plans for tonight.

"So how hot is he?" Gina asks. "If he's at least an 8, I can let this one slide."

"You can definitely cut me some slack then," I reply, giving her a brief description of you.

Out of the corner of my eye I catch you headed back this direction. "Gotta go doll, I'll call you later."

"I expect details, and I mean details!" Gina says before we hang up.

She means it about the details, too. We live vicariously through each other when one of us goes through a dry spell. I think this may be the first time I've considered not telling her everything. At least, not anytime soon. Maybe in the future, over a bottle of wine or a pitcher of beer, but not tomorrow, I'm certain.

I see you walking my way, try unsuccessfully to give you a casual glance over. I know my face says much more than oh, glad you're back. It takes a sharp pinching sensation to realize I'm biting my bottom lip, thinking about how perfectly matched your body is to mine. Can you tell that's what's on my mind? Somehow, I think you can.

 

[lovingfingers]

Standing at the bar, I order another tea and collect myself. She is coming over tonight! Yes! Calm down... Glancing at the clock on the wall, I frown. How did it get to be that late?

I pay for my tea and walk back to our table. I see you talking on your phone and walk slowly, both so not to interrupt, and to have a moment to drink you in. Oh, the lines of your body... I can feel myself getting hard again and sigh. It is going to be a long day.

I come to stand by the table. To have bent over and kissed you would have been the most natural thing in the world. "Beth, I truly hate to say this, but I completely lost track of time and need to head back home. May I walk you to your car?" I ask, holding out my hand to you.

 

[Sensual_Goddess]

I sense disappointment in your face as you near, and think for a moment you might be having second thoughts. Did I send the wrong signals, seem to eager?

No, I'm certain that's not the case. The connection was already there; meeting in person, in the flesh, has just amplified things. I feel is as surely as I feel the light breeze from the overhead fan.

The hand you extend to me would cover mine completely, if placed directly over it. I slide the strap of my purse over my shoulder and allow you to hold my hand as I stand, then keep it as we start for the door. My fingers splay to allow yours to fill in the gaps, clasp them so our palms make contact. I get an involuntary shiver up my spine when that contact is made, like electricity generating from the joining of our skin. I can't even imagine what it's going to feel like to have your hands on my body in places even more sensitive.

When we get to my car I pause, uncertain if a kiss is the proper way to part. I turn to face you, looking up slightly to meet your eyes, and tell you I've enjoyed our first meeting, and I'm looking forward to later. I start to ask you if I should bring anything: Wine? A robe? My toothbrush? Then blush furiously at the thought. I have plenty of time to consider these things while I wait for time to pass today. Still, I don't want to appear unprepared. I want him to see me as the clever, sexy girl from our story, brought to life for his eyes only. What would she do in this situation?

I reach for your other hand, stand on my toes, brush my lips against yours softly. There, not overtly brazen, simply a warm gesture between new friends.

 

[lovingfingers]

When you take my hand and stand, I finally appreciate your delicious height. You are only a few inches shorter than me. Oh my, the things we could do together...

You take my hand as though it is the most natural thing in the world. The feel of your flesh pressed against mine is intoxicating. Why had I not cancelled my appointments for the day? As we walk, I relish the natural rhythm of our strides and the sensual vitality of your body. I can see that you have written a lot of yourself into your story character. And what a character... I cannot help but grin widely.

When we reach your car, there is a vaguely awkward moment as we both contemplate the first kiss. You raise yourself slightly and give me the softest of kisses. Fortunately, there is more than a bit of me in my character. I release one of your hands and slide my hand around your waist to the small of your back. I pull you to me in our first full body contact, tilt my head slightly, and give you a longer kiss, slow, langorous and firm.

When our lips part, I whisper, "Until this evening."

 

[Sensual_Goddess]

When you let my hand drop I start to step back, but before I can, you are holding me around the waist, pulling me closer. I wrap my hand around your upper arm, feel the muscles flex beneath my grip, then hold tighter when you kiss me. My body betrays me and relaxes against you, savoring the contact. My mind is screaming more more more! and urges me to lean into you, closer. Instead, I concentrate on your lips, your tongue parting mine gently, and kiss you back.

"I am looking forward to this evening."

Your voice is as arousing as your touch. I am past looking forward, though. I am anxiously awaiting, at best. The afternoon hours stretching out before me feel like years as I contemplate getting in my car and driving away from you. It seems so counterproductive. But you have appointments, and I have a few things I'd like to do before I see you again. Reluctantly, I take a half step back, away from you, let your hand fall from mine, reach back for the door handle.

I wave, blow you a kiss through the open window as I pull away. When my fingers brush my lips, I am reminded of how yours felt there, and find myself imagining those lips on my neck, down my chest. The driver behind me catches me in my reverie, honks to remind me to speed up, the road is not the place to be daydreaming. I can do that when I get home.

 

[lovingfingers]

I watch you drive off and feel as though my body is leaning in the direction you have gone. You are gone a moment, and already my body aches for you. I recall the feel and taste of your lips, so luscious and wet. Gods, I want to taste you!

Patience. I sigh and head back to my own car. I make it back to my house with just enough time to set up for my first appointment. My clients all get exceptional massages, my aroused life energy oozing out of hands. When the time for my break arrives, I am not hungry, for food. But I eat, because I want no weakness in my body tonight.

My last client is late, not too late, but late. As I start to work her shoulders and throat, something about her reminds me of you. My thoughts drift and I imagine how I will touch you, how I will touch every inch of your body, touch, taste...

I finish my last appointment and my client tips me quite well. I thank her, then head to the bathroom to freshen up, only having enough time to wash my face and apply a little cologne. I clean up the massage room, and am putting down fresh sheets when I hear the doorbell ring.

 

[Sensual_Goddess]

When I get home I give myself a few minutes to relax, catch my breath, decide what to do first. I'm still feeling a little breathless from our meeting. A quick glance at my watch tells me I have plenty of time to prepare, if I can just collect my thoughts.

My closet is full of casual clothes, nothing too daring, thanks to my career choice. The few items I own that hint at my true nature are stashed far toward the back and rarely shown to another person. I pull a soft cashmere skirt, almost black the purple hue is so dark, and matching short sleeved sweater from a perfumed, padded hanger. Lavender, so faint it just tickles my nose, wafts from the fabric. The material clings, the neckline dips, the hem is a few inches above my knees. It's perfect, I think to myself as my fingers touch the velvety soft material. The outfit was quite a splurge, and I smile, glad I made the purchase.

Since my body will be on display, I strip and give myself a good once over; shaved where I should be, save for a neat strip of hair I keep neatly trimmed. I step into the shower and lean back against the wall so the water can run down my belly and my legs. The bath wash I use is lavender scented, like most of my more personal items. The scent relaxes me and, if I'm honest, stirs me, too. I close my eyes and imagine it's Sean's hands on my body instead of my own, sliding down my arms, circling my abdomen. I'm moaning out loud when I realize I'd better get moving. I let the water run down my body, watch the rivulets of lather float to the drain.

My skirt clings to my legs, just enough to show the curves, and my sweater dips just enough in front to reveal a hint of cleavage. A little more than the shirt I had on earlier, but not too much. I brush my hair, spritz on a light perfume, decide on no jewelry. It's all about touching tonight, earrings and such would just get in the way.

I pack a few overnight items in my purse, not wanting to show up with an overnight bag, but still, wanting to be prepared. Then, I check the time. If I leave now, I should be right on time, which is just the way I like to arrive.

 

[lovingfingers]

I move swiftly to the hall and can see you through the glass in the door. Oh my.... You look gorgeous. I open the door smiling, "Hello! Please come in."

I stand aside as you walk in, and the very faint hint of lavender comes to my nose. I inhale deeply and then close the door, locking it. I face you again, and in a step, am up close. The momentum of my desire carries me and in the next moment, I am kissing you, once, twice, slowly. We part and I softly say, "You look wonderful. I am so glad you are here."

I kiss you again, this time it is longer and a little harder. I can feel the heat rising quickly. "Mmm," I breathe, "another like that and you may not get your massage."

I have plans for you, and I am not going to let impulse get in the way, yet. Backing off just slightly, I ask, "Would you like anything before your massage? Wine? Anything? I am just about ready for you."

 

[Sensual_Goddess]

The sound of the tumblers in the lock turning, falling, catching echoes in the stillness. I hesitate after a few steps, turn and face you. Though we had parted with a kiss, I'm not sure how to greet you. Fortunately, I don't have to think about it. Your lips are as warm and inviting as your words. So glad I'm here? Well, so am I. Before I can respond, though, you kiss me again, and this time, I really don't want you to stop. I rest my hands flat against your shoulders; not to hold you back, but to appreciate the strength in your upper arms, feel the muscles flex as you hold me closer.

I agree with you completely; another kiss like that and any resolve to take things slow will certainly evaporate in this heat between us. The words we have shared through our writing have provided weeks of teasing. My body has already tried to distract my mind by responding to your touch with a fierce longing. I've wanted this from our first exchange. Now that you are right here, it's almost impossible to wait. But I know you are right. Massage first. Enjoy the ride, don't be in such a hurry!

"I'll have to save the rest for after my massage, then," I respond to your playful ultimatum with one of my own. "And a glass of wine would be wonderful."

 

[lovingfingers]

"Lovely, on both counts," I reply grinning. I walked to the refrigerator, trying not to anticipate. The current running between us is amazing, and I cannot imagine the intensity of what will follow.

I reach in the frig and pull out a nice white. I reach for two glasses and fill each. Turning back to you, I hand you on, asking, "I hope you don't mind me joining you."

I raise my glass, toasting, "To Literotica."

Our glasses clink and we both sip. I reach over and take your hand, whispering, "this way."

You follow me as I lead you down the hall to the massage room. I take you to the couch along one wall, "have a seat. I was just prep'ing the room when you arrived."

You take me up and sit down. I suck in my breath a little as I watch the hem of your skirt ride up your thighs a bit. You simply smile at me.

Setting my wine down, I turn and finish putting new sheets on the table. I put another sheet on top. I light a couple of tea lights and turn the background music on again. Smiling, I sit down next to you, asking, "so, as Sean Connery asks Kim Basinger before her massage, 'soft or hard?'"

 

[Sensual_Goddess]

Mind you joining me? Oh, you're talking about the wine. Professional decorum, while charming, isn't exactly what I'm expecting from you tonight, massage or no.

I return your toast, the light clink of our glasses touching reverberates in the quiet, matches the trembling I feel on the inside.

To Literotica, and beyond," I reply as the light shiver passes through me.

I watch you prepare, tucking in the sheet corners, laying another over the surface. Candles, music, a little more intimate setting than I've ever been massaged in before. Of course, I'm not expecting this to be like anything I've ever experienced. I've never been so drawn to someone in such a short time. The candle light dances in your eyes, makes everything in the room soft, shadowy. The music, something bluesy, I can't quite recognize but feel it stirring me.

And then, you throw out the Bond reference. I don't think we've shared my crush on Sean Connery. In fact, I'm certain we haven't. I can't help but smile at how in tune you seem to be with me.

"You're the professional," I reply. "What would you recommend?"

 

[lovingfingers]

"harrd," I breathe out softly. I take another sip of wine and lick my lips.

"I am ready, whenever you are," I announce, "if you would be so good as to take your clothes off and lie down under the top sheet."

I automatically got up to leave the room, then paused, "for my clients, I always leave the room to give them privacy. But.. do you want that privacy?"

I look down at you, ache for you, and hope you don't mind my staying.

 

[Sensual_Goddess]

It isn't like you are going to not see all of me, so why should I the actual disrobing in private? I'm certainly not a client.

I stand and hold my hair off my neck, turn away from you, and ask you to unfasten the delicate pearl buttons that run down the back of my sweater.

Yes, it's an excuse to get your hand on me now. Right now. I lean back slightly, to ensure your fingers brush my skin as you work the smooth round buttons through the holes. I can feel the air on my skin, and it makes me crave your warm hands all the more.

When you get to the last button, you ease the sleeves down my shoulders, and suddenly, I feel exposed. I lean back to feel you, let you take my shirt and put it on the couch. I can see my nipples hard against the soft lacy cups of my bra. Mmmmm...it's impossible not to moan softly when I feel your hands on my bare skin.

 

[lovingfingers]

I hold my breath as you hold your hair and ask me to start undressing you. It is unbelievable erotically tense as I undo the buttons on your shirt, exposing more and more of your back. The last button undone, I ease your sweater off your shoulders and another puff of perfume drifts to my nose. I smile as I lay your sweater on the couch.

You don't ask, but I reach for and unclasp the hooks on your lacey bra. Undoing them, I take the straps off your shoulders. You peel it off and hand it back to me. I run my fingers over the lace and set it with your sweater.

I kneel slightly and unzip your skirt. It opens and slides down your legs, revealing your panties beneath. You step out of your skirt and it joins the pile on the couch. My tremble slightly as I take your panties and slide them over your hips and down. The round cheeks of your derriere and the scent of you entrance me. I am so close to losing it.

I stand, still behind you, putting my hands on your shoulders, whispering in your ear, "Beth, you are so beautiful. Please.... lie down for me."

 

[Sensual_Goddess]

Your fingers barely touch me as you unhook the clasp on my bra. One strap, then the other falls down my shoulders, and now my back is bare. My breasts, a little warmer than the rest of me, would just fit in your hands, if you were to reach around and cup them. My nipples contract even more when the cooler air hits me, the dark brown flesh willing your hands to reach around, feel how they long for your hands on them.

But then, I feel the zipper on my skirt give, the metallic teeth make a barely perceptible buzz as they separate. I was wondering how much of the disrobing you would assist with, and can't help but think of all the other women who have come through these doors to experience your theraputic touch. I'm sure you are the utmost professional with your clients, and even detect a hint of that in your movements, unhurried yet so very efficiently taking me down to skin in mere moments.

Your voice in my ear is close, warm, so soft. I've never really known how to respond to comments about my looks. Not that I don't enjoy a compliment, I just don't know what to say.

I find I'm nervous, not sure when I've been completely disrobed, alone, in front of anyone. I take a deep breath and summon up the courage of my character, the person I want to be right now, the girl who knows what she wants.

I make myself comfortable, telling myself I'm in good hands, your hands, your professional hands. And I wait for your touch.

"I'm ready," I say, somewhere between a whisper and a plea.

Ready doesn't begin to describe what I'm feeling, but it's a start.