Clocktober #3 - MassagesClocktober #3 - Massages3 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
It's the mystery of your back, that my hands allow themselves never to decipher. May nothing stop the travel of their fingers across your neck, sliding with trained slowness until they reach your shoulders, squeeze your ribs, my thumbs circling on each tired centimeter of your skin.
Yours I am, yours I stay. Yours I know myself happy, I know myself complete.
So I await that moment in the office, when you point at your shoulders and ask me for a break from it all. During those minutes, Life is working. Who cares if the boss finds out. I'll take the blame, may he fire me if so he wishes. For the night will see us together again, to take a deep dive into the satisfaction of your back.