Friday, March 8, 2013

MASSEUR by Veronica Tower

MASSEUR by Veronica Tower

Playtime Series Book 2

On their 10th wedding anniversary, Edie and Jack vowed to reinvigorate their sex life and save their marriage through randomly selected fantasies. First up was Jack's fantasy starring Edie as a common streetwalker.

Now it's Edie's turn to call the shots, and she wants a little TLC.


By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, please exit this site.

An Excerpt From: MASSEUR
Copyright © VERONICA TOWER , 2013
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
Chapter One

Edie reached up to retrieve the breakfast bowl with the little folded pieces of paper inside it, an unusual twinge of hope sparking deep inside her body. The last time she and Jack had played this game, things had gotten really crazy, but it had still ended well. Who’d have thought that at the age of thirty she and her husband could still fool around in their car like a couple of horny teenagers? And who’d have thought that Jack would make the time to lie around cuddling with her afterward and talking about old times?

There was a smile on her face and a spring in her step as Edie turned around to place the bowl on the kitchen table.

Jack immediately reached for one of the folded up pieces, snatching up one of the slips of paper.
Edie’s good mood evaporated. “Hey!” she snapped at him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to find out what we’re going to do for playtime this weekend,” Jack responded. His fingers never stopped opening the little piece of paper. He was a six-foot-two former high school quarterback with skin as white as Edie’s was dark. Unfortunately, while the high school glory years were twelve years in the past, he still liked to act as if he could run their household the same way he used to direct his team in the huddle.

Edie wasn’t putting up with that. “Well who says you get to be the one to choose the fantasy?”

Jack’s fingers stumbled as he looked up at her. “You picked last time. I thought this would be my turn. Doesn’t that seem fair to you?”

That did seem fair, but Edie still wasn’t happy with how Jack had taken control again. Dr. Phelps said these little fantasy games that they called playtime were supposed to bring them closer together. Edie didn’t feel close to Jack when he ran roughshod over her wishes. And she really didn’t trust him to play fair in this game. “Who’s to say you didn’t check out all of these pieces of paper over the course of the week and mark one so you could snatch it up like this and make us play another one of your fantasies?” she asked.

Jack frowned. He continued to hold the folded paper in his hands, but stopped opening it. “Who’s to say you didn’t do that?” he shot back at her.

It was just like him to try and turn the question back around on her. “I didn’t!” Edie told him.

“Neither did I!” Jack assured her.

“But how do I know?” Edie asked. “Last week when I picked, you mixed up the pieces of paper in the bowl and made me close my eyes. I think we should follow the same rules now.”

“All right, all right,” Jack grumbled as he tossed the paper back in the bowl.

Edie picked it up and refolded it. “Now close your eyes,” she told him.

Jack did as he was told and she relished the tiny victory. Then she mixed the five little folded slips of paper around with her fingers and told him he could pick one out.

Jack’s hand fumbled slightly for the edge of the bowl and then pulled out a slip of paper without any hesitation at all. “Can I open my eyes now?”

Edie didn’t like the sour expression on his face. “You know it’s unattractive when our kids pout, but it’s downright ugly when you do it!”

Jack laughed and started opening the new piece of paper. They’d started this game a week ago at the insistence of their marriage counselor. Edie had mixed feelings about the first game. On the one hand, it had succeeded in getting them to have sex for the first time in years, but the whole concept—Jack picking her up and paying her for sex like she was a streetwalker—still bothered Edie on some level. It had been hot and exciting—but there was no denying that their bumping and grinding had been sex and not lovemaking.

Still, Dr. Phelps seemed pleased with their experience. “It’s a start,” the woman had told them, “and you aren’t going to make any progress on your problems if you can’t make a start.”

Jack finished unfolding the piece of paper. “It’s one of yours,” he told her.

Edie leaned forward eagerly, wondering which one it was.

“Oh, Lord,” Jack said, grinning. “I thought you said you wanted romance.”

“I do want a little romance,” Edie insisted. “Which one is it?” She reached for the scrap of paper but he moved it away from her hand.

“Honestly, Edie,” he said. “This is one I could have come up with. After all your complaints about my streetwalker fantasy, you want exactly the same thing I did.”

“What are you talking about?” Edie snapped. This time she succeeded in snagging the slip of paper away from him. She turned it over so she could read her own handwriting.

I want to be teased and pampered by a professional masseur at a spa.


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