Massage While You Wait

Eliza Ibarra's waiting at the spa while her friend gets worked on inside. Paper in hand, eyes glazing over. Then Daisy Stone clocks in and spots her on the couch, out like a light. One tap on the shoulder and Eliza's blinking herself awake. Daisy asks if she's lost. Eliza mumbles an apology—she's just parked until her friend's massage ends. Daisy snorts, tells her she's good, then offers an empty-handed massage. No one's on the books, and she could use the practice. Free hands? Eliza shrugs and follows. She hops up on the table, still in her clothes. Daisy works the shoulders, thumbs finding knots that make Eliza wince. Stress from school, she mutters. Daisy suggests shedding the layers; oil stains. Eliza peels everything off, lies face-down. Oil glides down her back, over her ass, sliding between her cheeks before Daisy moves lower, working each leg with steady pressure. Then a tongue flicks her big toe. Eliza jerks. Coconut oil, Daisy says, straight-faced. Eliza buys it, rolls onto her back when Daisy asks. Hands cup her tits, palms teasing stiff nipples until Eliza sighs how good that feels. Oil slick fingers part her thighs, graze slick folds, and finally press inside. Eliza's head falls back, hips twitching, every stroke making her forget she ever had a friend waiting.