This week our columnist Nicky Ives feels her way out of the friendzone when a massage goes interstellar
Actually, I met him a couple of years ago -- he's a good friend and goes to my church (hallelujah!). He's joined us on a family lunch out after church numerous times.
And come back to mine for a cuppa with me and the kids after.
And nothing ever happened.
I never let myself think of him like that.
Let's call him Jed.
Then one Sunday not so long ago, we were slumped on the sofa drinking tea.
Clearly, I know how to rock n roll.
My neck was really stiff and a massage was offered.
Now, I'm a tactile person, always have been.
But Jed was a friend and I was getting seriously turned on from the start. So I focused on controlling my breathing, thinking it'll be over soon, I won't embarrass myself or him.
Clearly, it's just me having this reaction!
Next thing I know my top is nearly off and he's lying on top of me.
Pounding my shoulders.
Have I mentioned before that a little bit of pain can be an incredible turn on?!
I'm half naked lying face down on a leather sofa (mmmmmmm, leather) with an extremely fit man lying on top of me with his hands in my hair, breath on my neck, and elbows under my shoulder blades.
I came instantly.
Not that he knew that. Until now.
I told him it would be a good time to stop if he wanted to, because I was starting (Ha!) to get turned on. It goes hazy at that point, but soon clothes were flying, nails grazing, teeth nipping, hands gripping...
Next thing I know, there are the heavy steps of a nine year old coming down the stairs. We freeze. "Shit! Where are my clothes?" I giggle.
I manage to pull a t-shirt on in time, Jed had his boxers.
Child opens the door. "Erm.... Mummy...."
"Yes, darling?" I reply, as nonchalantly as possible:
As if I wasn't breathing heavily
top on inside out,
nipples standing at attention,
and hair like a few birds had nested in it.
"Look next to you"
I look at Jed, also breathing heavily,
in boxers and half in jeans,
magnificent torso on display,
back and shoulders covered in scratches.
"Yes, Jed was feeling a bit hot so he took his t-shirt off."
I'm mortified. Somehow I don't think this will win me mother of the year.
"Mummy can I play Star Wars? Jed will you play Star Wars with me?"
I so wanted to make a comment about wielding lightsabers, but I just giggled instead.
Jed soon went home, and came back later that night.
And that's a whole different story.