small, the partition thin so each one of them could listen and make sure the other was okay at all times. Shutting yourself in a room with a stranger while you rubbed all over his or her body could get dicey.
She’d known Jenny before, having grown up with her in the same holler. But when they went to massage school together, they’d clicked. They’d decided early on that two women running a massage parlor would have to be careful about who their clients were unless they could afford a bouncer.
They couldn’t, so most of the clients were older. After making a pitch at a local senior citizen’s meeting, they’d developed a growing number of customers. If Miz added a little extra heat for those who hurt the most, her reward was always a smile and sometimes an extra-big tip.
It was pretty amazing actually, the way things had fallen into place. They’d scraped together the money to lease the old building as is. The plumbing worked and the electricity was up to code though the dated interior left a lot to be desired.
When Milo had volunteered to help paint and put in the needed partitions, he’d gotten interested in Jenny. The two had become a fast item and Miz had stepped back, glad that she’d united two good people. It did make for lonely nights though.
The day was half over when she took her first break and had time to relax. She felt good, her muscles loose, her mood mellow. She’d made fifty dollars in tips during the morning. Her share of the till would cover her half of the lease. This afternoon’s clients are gravy.
She should have known better than to count chickens before they’d hatched. Her biggest tipper and last client called and canceled ten minutes before his appointment. She could have filled the spot if she’d had notice, but she couldn’t be mad. Mr. Ogliah had the flu that week. It was surprising his daughter thought to call. Not so much though after she made her request.
“He’s in his room. He asked me to call you and apologize for missing his appointment. He thinks the world of you.”
Miz felt her throat tighten at the unexpected sentiment. His daughter said hesitantly, “I know you don’t make house calls.”
Miz tensed, not wanting to hear the fear and need in the older woman’s voice.
“He’s so depressed. And he always feels so much better after he’s had one of your massages. Could you…”
The woman offered to pay her double the usual rate. The doctor had already approved it. Could she come at six o’clock?
Jenny drifted by the phone area and mouthed what’s up?
Miz bared her teeth at her and crossed her eyes. “All right. You’ll have to give me directions.” She wrote down the street name and house number and said goodbye.
“I have no last appointment and dead time to fill until six tonight.”
Jenny shrugged. “That’s easy. You can come home with me. Milo’s fixing dinner.”
Miz fumbled to come up with an excuse to avoid Milo. It just didn’t feel right being with him tonight after his offer the night before. She’d deal with the why of her emotions later. She was saved from offering a flimsy excuse when the bell over the door jangled and they had a walk-in.
He was a black man from the city trying to play country. His jeans were creased and his boots new. In spite of the heat outside, he wore a long-sleeved tee shirt. She wondered about that. Whatever the reason, the damn thing molded to his abs and arms, not hiding his muscles at all. Drool collected in her mouth. Down, girl. You’re suffering from the aftereffects of… Hot damn, he was nice looking.
“If you have time, I’d like a massage.”
She watched his lips move, studying their shape. Good mouth, strong jaw. “From the waist up. No funny stuff,” she told him. He wouldn’t be the first bozo who’d decided to test the limits of their services.
He shrugged. “That’s fine. I’ve got a kink in my back. Fly fishing the other day I twisted wrong on a cast.”
Well, all righty
She’d known Jenny before, having grown up with her in the same holler. But when they went to massage school together, they’d clicked. They’d decided early on that two women running a massage parlor would have to be careful about who their clients were unless they could afford a bouncer.
They couldn’t, so most of the clients were older. After making a pitch at a local senior citizen’s meeting, they’d developed a growing number of customers. If Miz added a little extra heat for those who hurt the most, her reward was always a smile and sometimes an extra-big tip.
It was pretty amazing actually, the way things had fallen into place. They’d scraped together the money to lease the old building as is. The plumbing worked and the electricity was up to code though the dated interior left a lot to be desired.
When Milo had volunteered to help paint and put in the needed partitions, he’d gotten interested in Jenny. The two had become a fast item and Miz had stepped back, glad that she’d united two good people. It did make for lonely nights though.
The day was half over when she took her first break and had time to relax. She felt good, her muscles loose, her mood mellow. She’d made fifty dollars in tips during the morning. Her share of the till would cover her half of the lease. This afternoon’s clients are gravy.
She should have known better than to count chickens before they’d hatched. Her biggest tipper and last client called and canceled ten minutes before his appointment. She could have filled the spot if she’d had notice, but she couldn’t be mad. Mr. Ogliah had the flu that week. It was surprising his daughter thought to call. Not so much though after she made her request.
“He’s in his room. He asked me to call you and apologize for missing his appointment. He thinks the world of you.”
Miz felt her throat tighten at the unexpected sentiment. His daughter said hesitantly, “I know you don’t make house calls.”
Miz tensed, not wanting to hear the fear and need in the older woman’s voice.
“He’s so depressed. And he always feels so much better after he’s had one of your massages. Could you…”
The woman offered to pay her double the usual rate. The doctor had already approved it. Could she come at six o’clock?
Jenny drifted by the phone area and mouthed what’s up?
Miz bared her teeth at her and crossed her eyes. “All right. You’ll have to give me directions.” She wrote down the street name and house number and said goodbye.
“I have no last appointment and dead time to fill until six tonight.”
Jenny shrugged. “That’s easy. You can come home with me. Milo’s fixing dinner.”
Miz fumbled to come up with an excuse to avoid Milo. It just didn’t feel right being with him tonight after his offer the night before. She’d deal with the why of her emotions later. She was saved from offering a flimsy excuse when the bell over the door jangled and they had a walk-in.
He was a black man from the city trying to play country. His jeans were creased and his boots new. In spite of the heat outside, he wore a long-sleeved tee shirt. She wondered about that. Whatever the reason, the damn thing molded to his abs and arms, not hiding his muscles at all. Drool collected in her mouth. Down, girl. You’re suffering from the aftereffects of… Hot damn, he was nice looking.
“If you have time, I’d like a massage.”
She watched his lips move, studying their shape. Good mouth, strong jaw. “From the waist up. No funny stuff,” she told him. He wouldn’t be the first bozo who’d decided to test the limits of their services.
He shrugged. “That’s fine. I’ve got a kink in my back. Fly fishing the other day I twisted wrong on a cast.”
Well, all righty
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