WET [Part 12 - Anya Repays The Favor]
My summer at the adults-only water park…
“Anya?” I called, knocking softly on the door to the treatment room. “Are you in here?”
“Sarah! Hey!” she called, her voice warm and genuine. “So glad you came! Come in, come in. Close the door behind you please.”
I did, the low lighting and the same calming instrumental music drifting from the hidden speakers as before. The massage table stood in the center, its sheets turned down invitingly.
“I wanted to say thank you,” Anya began, her expression turning serious. “Properly thank you. For covering for me the other day. I feel so silly about that double booking. Mara said you handled it perfectly, and I just never got the chance to say thank you for saving my ass.”
“Oh,” I said, waving a dismissive hand. “It was really no problem. Don’t worry about it.”
“Actually, it was a problem,” she insisted. “And you did me a huge favor. I know we don’t really know each other, but I owe you big time. Let me repay you.”
“Anya, you really don’t have to–”
“I insist!” she said, cutting me off with a playful but firm smile. “Let me give you a massage. A real one. Come on.”
I paused. “Are you sure?”
She rolled her eyes. “Get on the table. Face down. I’ll leave the room while you get undressed. Just call me when you’re ready.”
I hesitated again.
“It’s up to you,” she shrugged. “But when else are you ever going to get a professional massage in a luxury resort with high-end oils for free?”
“Okay…” I said, thinking about how hard I’d been working for the last few weeks, about how much of myself I’d already given to the resort. “Fuck it. Let’s go.”
“Yay!” Anya smiled. “Just give me a call when you’re ready.”
I slipped off my uniform shorts and top, standing in my bra and panties for a moment before deciding to strip those off too. I grabbed a towel to cover myself and settled onto the table, resting my face in the cradle.
“All decent?” Anya’s voice came from the other side of the door.
I managed to shout a small ‘yes’ into the face cradle, and a second later I heard her re-enter the room and clos the door behind her with a soft click. I felt the table dip gently near my hip as she adjusted the towel with careful, deliberate hands, tucking it securely along the curve of my side.
“Ready?”
“I think so. I’ve never had a massage before.”
“Never?” she asked, her voice incredulous. “I’ll make sure it’s a good one.” Her hands settled at the base of my neck, pausing for a moment as if mapping me out, before pressing down in a slow, firm stroke, spreading the warm oil outwards. “Relax, please.”
I tried to obey as much as I could, and the firmness of her touch certainly helped with that. She worked her way across my shoulder blades, the pressure firm and deliberate, and I felt the stress begin to melt away, replaced by a languid, heavy relaxation.
“So,” she said, her voice a low hum as she moved down my spine. “I heard you were a sensation at the Getaway Games.”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me.” I groaned into the face cradle. “I still can’t believe I actually did that. So embarrassing.”
“What? Are you kidding? Jamie said you were like a different woman up there. He couldn’t quite believe it was the same quiet Sarah we all knew.” She chuckled, her hands smoothing oil over my lower back, her thumbs pressing into the dimples just above my ass. “He said you looked like you were born for it.”
“Jamie is exaggerating,” I mumbled, though I couldn’t help but feel a little swell of pride mixed in with the embarrassment.
“I doubt that,” she said. “You certainly have the body for it.”
Her hands slid lower, cupping the curves of my ass under the towel. Her touch was professional, but the deliberate exploration sent a shiver through me. Her movements were slow and steady, working their way up and down my back in long, practiced strokes, and for a while after that, neither of us said anything. The only sounds were the soft glide of her hands over my skin and the faint instrumental music drifting through the room. My breathing became slower, heavier, and the awkwardness faded, replaced by a quiet, floating calm, allowing myself to exist beneath her hands, warm and weightless.
“How’s the pressure?” she asked, pausing to apply more oil to her hands and then starting again on the back of my thighs, her fingers working their way up and down my legs.
“Perfect,” I replied. “It feels really good.”
“Good,” she said, pausing again to add even more oil, my entire body now slick with it. “Speaking of satisfied guests,” she continued. “Mara mentioned you got a very nice tip from Mr. Henderson.”
I tensed. “Oh. Yeah. I guess.”
“He must have really liked what you did for him,” she said, her thumbs stroking the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, inching higher with each pass. “To leave a tip that big.”
My heart was pounding now. “Yeah…I guess I gave him a good massage.”
“Right,” Anya said, a knowing smile in her voice. Her fingers were getting higher up my thighs. I was suddenly reminded of my decision to take my panties off. I bit my lip.
Neither of us spoke for a moment, the silence stretching out for a moment as she continued massaging my inner thighs with outward movements of her thumbs, each pass inadvertently (or purposefully) spreading me open.
“Daniel comes to Azure every few months,” she said, spreading me again. I wondered if she could see my pussy from her angle. “I know what kind of thing he likes.”
I didn’t respond, but I didn’t need to. Her words hung in the air, thick with implication. And then her fingers brushed against my clit, a light, deliberate touch. I gasped, half shock and half pleasure.
She did it again.
“Anya...” I breathed.