Jill Smolinski - The Next Thing on My List

‘ That explains it!’ Kitty exclaimed. ‘ For the life of us, we couldn’ t figure out why she’ d been wearing those silver shoes. They were so not her style. Then again,’ she added, sighing, ‘ who’ s to say? She’ d lost all that weight. There were probably a lot of things she was ready to try.’

My stomach twisted, but there was nothing accusatory in Kitty’ s voice as she continued, ‘ Okay, June, I know I said I didn’ t want to see the list, but tell me: Was there anything on it about finding love?’

I mentally reviewed the list. ‘ Not really. Although one of the items was to go on a blind date.’

‘ Really. Did you do that one?’

‘ Yeah. The guy turned out to be gay.’

‘ How funny! Oh, it makes me wonder how it would have been if Marissa had had a chance to do the list herself. Would she have met someone special on that date? The love of her life, even?’

‘ Oh, Kitty& ‘

She waved away my concern. ‘ It’ s a nice thought. It doesn’ t make me happy exactly, but I feel as if she’ s here with us.’

‘ If it’ s any consolation, I can assure you Marissa would have had better luck than me on the blind date.’

At that, Kitty tipped her head toward Martucci, who was snoring so loudly that it sounded as if trucks were downshifting on the nearby highway. ‘ So what’ s the deal with you two? You have a little thing going on?’

‘ Martucci and me? Definitely not. We’ re friends.’

‘ I think he’ s handsome,’ Kitty said. ‘ You don’ t find him handsome?’

‘ We’ re work buddies. That’ s it.’

My gaze moved to Troy. He sat on the edge of the pool, tossing a ball to a group of little kids. I tried not to drool. He looked darned yummy, and it had been so long since I’ d had so much as a bite.

‘ That’ s a shame,’ Kitty said, picking up her magazine. ‘ Call it a mother’ s intuition, but I swear there’ s romance in the air.’

AFTER CHECKING INTO the spa and changing into the white terry robes they’ d provided, Brie, Kitty, Gran, and I sat in the lounge area waiting to be called for our treatments. The room was decorated in soothing greens, and there was the scent of eucalyptus wafting through the air. It was hard to believe this was in the same building as the casino and its bright lights and chaos.

I was bathed in peace& until a man stepped into the room. I said a silent prayer that he wasn’ t assigned to me. I’ d never had a masseur before, and this one looked as if he could snap me like a twig. He had a redwood build-broad-shouldered, with his body forming a slick V at his waist. His waist-length black hair was pulled into a ponytail, and his features, while striking, seemed chiseled from granite. If I saw this guy in a dark alley, I’ d faint.

Please don’ t call my name.

‘ June Parker?’ His voice was an engine rumbling.

Figured. ‘ That’ s me,’ I said, standing and pulling my robe tight around me.

The ladies were atwitter, mumbling their approval.

‘ She hit the jackpot on this one-what a gorgeous face. Like a Greek god!’

‘ Look at those hands.’

‘ Like catcher’ s mitts.’

‘ I’ ve never seen such big hands!’

‘ And you know what they say& ‘

‘ That’ s feet they say that about.’

‘ Who cares? Anyway, with such an impressive front, I can only imagine what-’

Brie gave me a shove. ‘ Get going. We want to see him walk away.’

I waved good-bye to them. They cooed like proud mothers sending their baby girl off to lie naked on a table while a total stranger rubbed his hands over her.

He introduced himself as Runner and escorted me into a dimly lit room barely big enough for the massage table. The drill was the same as usual: He left while I stripped and lay facedown on the table underneath a blanket. When he returned after I’ d called out that I was ready, he was all business.

I wished I could have said the same for myself. Something about being naked and so near such a bastion of masculinity had me& well& thinking.

‘ Do you prefer hard or soft?’ he asked innocently enough.

‘ Hard,’ I gulped, not so innocently.

‘ Okay. Let me know if it’ s too much.’

He began massaging my back and shoulders in deep, firm strokes. I could hear him breathing as he worked. He was careful to keep me covered. I felt his hip graze against me, but it was all very clean and on the up-and-up and wholesome and, cripes, I was so horny. There was no getting around it. The candles& the soft music& a man’ s strong hands gripping me and rubbing me& his raspy grunts as he threw his weight into it. How could I not have filthy thoughts? Even though I would have been horrified if his hands actually wandered, that didn’ t mean I couldn’ t entertain the fantasy that they might.

He moved my towels around and then dug his fingers into the flesh of my thighs. It was all I could do to suppress a moan. I wondered how many women threw money at him and asked for the ‘ full service’ massage.

I wondered if he said yes.

And how much money would it take?

Not that I was interested, mind you.

Simply curious.

Runner told me to turn over onto my back, and then he covered my eyes with a cool cloth. My mind wandered, first to thoughts of work& and the list& and then to thoughts of Troy Jones swimming, the muscles on his back rippling as he dug through the water. The way he’ d smoothed the water from his hair when he’ d stepped out, completely wet, his swim trunks clinging to him.

I must have sighed at the memory, because Runner murmured, ‘ This feels good?’ His hands gripped my hips, pushing firmly up and down, which brought me back to the moment.

‘ Mmm-hmm.’

‘ Good.’

He continued, making a noise from deep in his chest from all that pushing and thrusting and grabbing. I was trying to do that thing men do to stave off arousal, think of something neutral like baseball-only I was imagining buying that new set of plates I wanted at Pottery Barn-when I sensed Runner shift so that he stood behind my head. ‘ We’ re almost finished,’ he said.

I felt his hand rest to put pressure on my right temple. Then his other hand pushed on my left temple. Then his other hand pushed firmly into the crown of my head.

His other hand?

I distinctly recalled him having only two hands when we started, so what was that pressing into my head?

Oh no-it was his penis. He was jamming his erection into me. I felt it rubbing against my hair, making firm, hard circles. I must have been sending out signals. He probably thought I was enjoying it!

I had no idea what to do. It was one thing if I’ d asked-Hey, would you mind sliding your throbbing manhood against me?-but I’ d done no such thing! Boy, if he thought he was getting the full 15 percent tip after this&

I needed to say something. Make it clear that he was out of line. Because although I was still covered by the towel, I felt naked. Exposed. How could he?

He made a noise& mmmm& yet I lay there with the cloth over my eyes, doing nothing. At the very least, I needed to slap him. Or report him!

Mustering my courage, I pulled off the cloth and opened my eyes. When I did, I realized that he wasn’ t digging his penis into me. He wasn’ t even standing behind me. He was to my side. One of his huge hands stretched across my face so he touched both temples at once.

Which left his other hand free to touch the top of my head.

‘ How was it?’ he asked warmly.

‘ Great,’ I said, trying not to blush.

Was it my fault the man had freakishly large hands? Anyone could have made the same mistake.

As I threw on my robe to join the other women before going upstairs to get ready for dinner, it occurred to me that that pent-up sexual energy had to go somewhere. And I knew exactly where.