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“Sorry,” I said into the cradle. “That was out of line. Forget I said anything.”
Her hands went still. Then, after a long moment, they started again, but different. Brisk. Professional. She tugged the towel back up over my arse and tucked it in firmly, like she was making a bed.
“Already forgotten,” she said.
The rest of my back got a perfectly competent massage. The kind you’d give a stranger. My cock slowly lost interest and I lay there feeling like the biggest idiot in the county.
When she moved to my shoulders, though, she paused. Her thumbs pressed into the muscle at the base of my neck, and she leaned down close, close enough that her lips almost touched my ear.
“You know what’s annoying?” she said quietly.
“What?”
“You bring it up, I finally get a chance to say something, and then you take it back.” Her thumbs dug in, almost painful. “Did you mean it or not?”
I swallowed. “Does it matter?”
“It matters to me.” Her breath was warm on my neck. “I’m not going to embarrass myself twice, Mark. If you’re going to back out the second it gets real, then let’s just finish this, you tip me, and we see each other at Christmas like nothing happened.”
She straightened up and waited. I could hear the clock ticking on the wall. Thirty minutes left on the session.
My cock was very interested again.