Repeat Customers are Everything

Made it in time for the end of the World!

Sorry about the month-long delay. Big thanks to shuzumi for the chapter two review and to everyone who rated (especially if it was positive) or made this story a favorite. Since I only got one review last time I’m assuming Rarity was too boring to finish, and I tried to keep that in mind while writing this (though things did get a bit out of hand). Hopefully it’s a bit more exciting. Not all of these will be as scandalous as this one, mind you, but I had a jolly good time writing it so we’ll see.

Also, this one’s humanized. I did say it would happen. No other changes to the pretext or anything, that’s the only difference. Enjoy!

Miss Twilight Sparkle

Perhaps I should have used my own tongue for this.

Sure, if Lotus caught me she'd find it even more suspicious and I’d lose the opportunity to practice, but some things just defy adequate description in the language of the capital. How the vernacular of those ribald courtesans can leave so little room to detail the erotic without sounding vulgar, detached, or foolish is beyond me, but I should have known better. Especially considering my job. I realize now that I will inevitably need to slide in some direction if I am to continue this project, and since it is better to risk vulgarity than either detachment or foolishness, this is where I shall.

Twilight Sparkle—Miss Twilight Sparkle—is an account I’m quite proud of. She comes on weekends, a little less than twice a month, and with very few exceptions will bathe with one of us before a long, wet… well, I’m getting ahead of myself. There’s a story behind her, and I should start at the beginning.

Quelle surprise, she was a referral of Miss Rarity. A student and a powerful mage, I think she’s at the younger end of her circle of friends. She isn’t terrifically outgoing.

Two things stood out about her when she tiptoed in nervously behind a beaming Miss Rarity, content to have her own mild charm outshone by the gravitas of her companion: first, she’s a bit naïve—though less than Miss Fluttershy—and second, she’s almost exactly as tall as me. Really she’s a little taller (I end up looking at her lips when she stands at full height, chest out and shoulders back like a ballerina) but her posture isn’t perfect and mine is. She weighs about as much as my sister or I, but she’s not quite as strong.

Her naïveté turned out to be irrelevant. Miss Sparkle has a fantastic imagination and a curious personality, and the way she inspected everything (literally everything) on her first visit gave away the inkling she would later expose in detail. After a few appointments with Miss Rarity she came in for a massage on a whim, and I asked her the ‘When was your last…’ question.

She told me she ‘didn’t remember,’ but that her babysitter used to give the ‘best shoulder rubs ever.’

“Oh?" I asked, giving her time to continue. Babysitters have a habit of popping up in fantasies long after their charges have learned to take care of themselves. Something to do with vulnerability, I think, since they're really the first people who interact with you without your family looking on. "She was a masseuse, Miss Sparkle?”

“No, she wasn’t.” Twilight shook her head a little, shifting from side to side as much the face cradle allowed, her cheeks squeaking against the padding as she inadvertently wedged her face deeper. Despite probably being stuck now, she didn't bother lifting herself (towels have a weird immobilizing effect on people if you can make their weight feel perfectly distributed: reflexively, nobody wants to undo it, and I’d arranged her body under a heavy one). “She did have hands like one, though.”

“Indeed?”

“Oh yeah… but that’s not all, though. There was something more than that . Whatever she did—no matter what, I mean it could be anything—it would just be really comforting." Twilight went silent, and I wished I could see her face. It never fails to expose exactly what she's thinking. "I guess it’s because she gave me all her attention when she was with me.”

Good information, but pretty typical. Everybody likes that. “It sounds to me like your babysitter could have been a professional, Miss Sparkle. Such talent is rare, you know," if you don't know where to look. "A wasted opportunity indeed.”

Miss Twilight spent a few seconds inspected her ink-stained fingers, flexing them gently and feeling her nails. Then her hands fell and she tried to shake her head again. “Nah, she has other stuff going on. Actually, she married my brother last—” Miss Twilight’s frame instantly went completely and understandably rigid as her sentence was clipped off, the thought of her babysitter’s fondly-remembered hands running all over her brother probably shredding its way through a little corner of her innocence. Naturally, I froze too.

“Oh...” We said together. Wincing at the knowing disenchantment in each other's unsure voice was only marginally more comfortable than trying to weather the silence.

Well, if Miss Twilight hadn't needed a massage before this, she definitely needed one now. Still, I decided to leave her shoulders for another day.

Twilight—Miss Twilight—came back every week or three and never got the same thing twice. On her second visit we did her legs, on her third we added her neck and feet. She went for a sauna a few times, and a bath, and one time we did her nails. She had a waxing or two as well, I think. She wanted to try everything that interested her.

What did not interest her was anything aesthetic. When we did her nails it was because she thought they were getting too long and she chose the most basic finish. Her hair was never to be touched by anything without utility, which went double for her skin. What did interest her though—and this added considerable breadth to her definition of utility—were the therapeutic properties of our treatments.

Those were her words. I think she was trying to say that she needed a break, that she wanted to collect and compose herself without distractions. Miss Sparkle wanted to relax.

Well, she came to the right place.

But she was still hunting several months in, which meant she was still unfulfilled, which meant I wasn’t doing my job. I think she sensed I felt this, because she started apologizing every time she turned up and asked me to recommend something else. The only reassuring thing about the whole situation was that she seemed just as dedicated to perfecting things as I was.

It’s important to understand that Miss Sparkle is the kind of client who does her homework and never asks about a topic she hasn’t researched thoroughly, because she eventually came up with something very interesting.

One day, she brought up the possibility of an oil massage, and it became a topic of discussion over her next few visits.

“If I get one, can you do my legs too?" She finally asked. Miss Twilight's hair gets a little wild when it dries, and Lotus was brushing it back into a shiny purple curtain while I filed her nails. "With oil, I mean. My legs.” Miss Twilight spoke neutrally, almost managing to mask her eager inquisitiveness.

“This is possible,” I said.

“Yeah, I know it’s possible. Do you offer that?”

I stopped filing and looked up at her. Her face always glows with genuine curiosity, but her cheeks were tinged with a little self-consciousness that day as well. I smiled reassuringly and looked back at her nails. “Not usually, Miss Sparkle. But your satisfaction is important to me—and my sister—and I am familiar with the treatment.”

Her legs were crossed and she was bouncing her hanging foot nervously, and I couldn’t see it but I’m sure she was chewing her lip. “Can you do my feet as well?”

“Yes, Miss Sparkle, we can do your feet.” It may seem like a strange request, but it made sense. Miss Twilight had responded superbly to her first leg massage and even better when we worked for the first time on her feet; I think she must go through irregular cycles of high and low activity with her legs bearing much of the strain. Setting down the file and rubbing her hand gently, I looked back up into her purple, ever-scrutinizing eyes. “I can massage the entire body, you know. Oil or none.”

Those purple eyes widened a bit, with a little more than curiosity. She seemed almost surprised, like it had been too easy. “As can I, Miss Sparkle,” my sister cut in, apparently to make sure we all knew.

Miss Twilight set her chin on her free palm and looked out over my head. “You mean like my... scalp? And my face too?”

I paused to eye her before nodding once, and she pursed her lips. Being able to see her face made this much easier. We went on working in silence, the only sounds around us the dull echo of dripping water and the ambient scraping and brushing.

Miss Twilight's fingers were stiff. I squeezed, and she loosened them.

“People go for that?” She asked.

“Some.”

“And they..." she started, before cutting herself off and pulling back, forcing both my sister and I to stop working. "Aloe… honestly? A full body massage, you said that right?” I nodded. “A full body massage doesn’t sound that relaxing.”

When I rose my eyes to meet her her she looked straight out over my head again. That was probably the only time I’ve ever seen anyone blush from forehead to shoulder. I went back to her nails. “Yes, Miss Sparkle.”

Holding a client’s hand isn’t always a good idea, so to speak. Twilight wanted an argument because that was how she approached problems, and while I’m game for that sometimes, this was the kind of thing best left cooking in her head until curiosity gets the better of her. It took her a week to come back and book another session. She asked for a regular oil massage, but she also asked how long a full massage would take. When she had her answer she raised her eyebrows and clawed pitifully at one last excuse, almost mumbling.

“How... you know, expensive are they?” She sounded embarrassed even to ask.

“Not so much, Miss Sparkle,” I began lightheartedly, doing best not to sound like anything was out of the ordinary. “You and I can decide together on a price, we are off the menu now, you know. But for your first time… hmm…” I clapped my hands happily. “I have it: I will bill you only for a regular massage, and then you need not purchase again if you dislike it!”

I’m glad I'm supposed to look happy all the time, because if I had to stifle a smirk right then it would have been impossible. “I… A... Aloe,” Twilight stuttered, sounding almost angry. “Aloe. That’s much too generous.”

“Oh, not at all, Miss Sparkle. Nothing could be too generous for such a dedicated client. So, I’ll see you soon!” Her feet carried her out the door before she could respond, mouth still trying to shape itself around words that refused to take form.

Now this was treacherous ground. Thin Ice. I knew Miss Twilight had been planning to do that little double-escalation trick like she’d done a few times before, so removing her last alibi meant leaving her cornered. I had some room to play with, sure, but she did look a little terrified after I made the offer. Maybe even more than a little.

Well, my cards were down now.

So I wound up, yet again, with Miss Twilight Sparkle naked on my massage table, her supple body covered by a white towel from hip to thigh. Her dark hair—still damp from the bath—hung vertically, draped around her face as she looked straight down. The oil was hot and she was breathing steadily, resting her arms above her head. I could have started immediately. But I didn’t.

I like to think I’m a pretty perceptive person. There’s no box on our registration cards that asks ‘Magical Ranking, if Applicable’, but it wasn’t hard to piece together that Twilight was a high mage. A very high mage. High mages… complicate things for me.

There’s something wrong with them. Or rather, something right. I’m sure there’s an explanation for it—hay, Miss Twilight could probably tell me if I asked—but all I know for sure is that they all, and I mean all, have perfect bodies.

I don’t mean to say that they look like models. They haven’t jumped out of oil paintings and they aren’t statues come to life. It’s just that their metabolisms tend to be perfectly tuned and incredibly responsive. Somehow their biology is guided by their power and they all end up stunning down to every little detail. Nothing in their appearance is ever unsuitable to their personality or contradictory to any other feature. Even the things you don’t notice unless you get to see them up close (and preferably naked) are like that: the smoothness of their skin and the way it bounces back when touched, how it tans and colors and never blemishes; the thickness and softness and strength of their hair; the rich pigmentation in their eyes. They look—they feel—designed.

They’re usually unaware of it too, believe it or not, which makes it even more infuriating. Like it’s not unfair enough to begin with!

Maybe this isn’t true officially, but I’ve had my hands on enough high mages to feel pretty certain of my suspicions. My sister and I are fortunate enough to be blessed in appearance—we’re slim, though not lanky, and our skin tends to shrug off our labors quite well—but Miss Twilight’s figure (while it wouldn’t turn heads over someone like Miss Rarity who has the will to flaunt it) is just so good. Perfectly curved, proportionate limbs, a well-rounded chest and even better hips, every part of her has this tantalizing edge of pliability that drags your eyes all over until you end up trapped in her bottomless eyes. And her bangs! Anyone who can pull off bangs like that—like they were made for them—looks like a princess to me.

I guess what I’m saying is that I wouldn’t have minded terribly if Twilight had asked me to jump her and try to make her forget her name as our next little experimental treatment. There are just some clients whose appointments keep me up at night.

From her side, well… it’s not too hard to work out that a pair of beauticians (with a special talent for detecting and manipulating sensitivity) can cook up more than what’s on the menu. A spa is kind of like a restaurant: most people just go with a prix fixe routine from the few sets on the front page, low-impact repeats start to order a la carte, and real regulars—who know the chef and the kitchen—eventually want to see what we can do with their favorite dishes. But here’s the thing: somehow Twilight made relaxing a mission, a task that she couldn’t leave unperfected. It was almost fetishistic.

To be fair, performance anxiety isn’t unique. It’s a common and particularly intrusive problem if you charge people to relax: either they feel like they aren’t holding up their end of the bargain or they’re constantly trying to decide whether they’re getting their money’s worth. And Twilight wanted to be the best at it in her cute, bizarre little way. I think by this point she had read every book on massage, every research paper on physical therapy, all the history behind public bathing and how the practice had changed over the centuries. She knew what was out there. Oh, she knew.

And she knew what she wanted.

And most importantly, she wanted it badly.

I could tell every time I put my hands on her. No one that clever has trouble making the logical leap that links the pretty foreign girl fretting over you with the notion of the same pretty foreign girl fretting over the rest of you. Whatever was on her mind, I’m sure she’d read about it in a hundred variations. I could see the phantom images swimming in her eyes. It's just that she was also the kind of person who didn’t act without certainty when it came to that sort of thing, no matter how easily she let herself imagine it. The possibility of it really happening probably didn’t feel real to her.

But this was winter, and there’s not much to do, and when you’re not doing much you feel really, really cold. If you can make someone feel warm they’ll just float away, so to that effect I’d put the fleece cover on our table and wrapped it in a thick sheet. The room was hotter than usual, and when Miss Sparkle stepped out of the bath it was into a warmed terry. The towel I left on her had been heated. I even set out some candles, and caught her watching them. They broke her utility rule, probably, but apparently they weren’t an infraction worth commenting upon.

I realized how long I'd been taking. She hadn't moved.

It took some serious effort to keep things professional that day. By now Twilight—Miss Twili…

Nope, I give up.

By now Twilight was okay with a little familiarity, but once I’d given her shoulders and back a warm coating of slippery oil and started working the muscles at the base of her spine I had to keep myself from getting too playful. Her legs were even worse, I thought for sure I’d slip up and squeeze her limp thighs or her tense calves and she’d sense the heat behind my fingers. I almost went for it that day—her leg stiffened enchantingly when I ran my oily fingers between her toes and I nearly, nearly lost it—but I figured if I was going to lose any sleep over this, she might as well too.

She ordered the same thing on her next visit.

And her next. Never even mentioned the candles. I went for it.

I think it was long enough. Had I done it at her first appointment she would have dissolved into an awkward mess. On one of her last few she might have reacted with alarm, but probably not surprise. When I finished her legs this time, I pulled the towel down to her calves. That’s another weird thing about towels: leave one lying on someone—even just over their feet—and they won’t feel nearly as exposed as if you remove it entirely, never mind the fact that they could be essentially naked. The towel controls the mind.

I got more oil.

The first time I ran my hands over her backside and down her inner thighs felt so unbelievably good—for her, I mean, I could tell, but for me as well—I almost didn’t want to let go for more oil. A few more open-palmed strokes and her buttocks were just as slick as the rest of her, and my fingers were free to work her flesh without friction. So long as I sensed her excitement I didn’t restrain myself and let my instincts guide me entirely.

Twilight has nice breasts, but her hips and bottom are truly her most wonderful features. They give her practical, preppy work outfits—pleated skirts and dark hose all around—a fantastically blunt, oblivious edge of sexuality. I started working at the lower edges of her rear, right where her legs join her body, gradually moving up by firmly squeezing the increasingly slick flesh and letting it slip out of my hands again and again, beginning to really knead the meat of her largest muscles. My hands alternated between specific knots and bunches, working them all with varying degrees of force, until before long I was letting them slide more deeply between her glossy thighs and running them straight up to her spine, just barely dragging the tips of my fingers over the crease in her buttocks—tauntingly slowly—but eventually supplying enough pressure to gradually part them and run my nails between her soft, warm flesh and—

I went for it. My hand slithered back between her thighs and I palmed her, my extra senses straining through the immediate contact with the twisted bundle of nerves running right through her core and the myriad others clustered tightly in that one region. Twilight was burning up, and the conductive oil clinging to my fingers made that fact even more apparent. She lifted her head and looked at me, and with a bewitchingly seductive growl that even she was surprised by, asked “How much?”

I bit my tongue. She asked again. I made an offer.

Twilight flipped herself over, tangling her legs in the towel. I made a bit of a show of fixing it now that she was watching me, but left it by her knees.

She made me start on her arms, after which I did her collar and her neck and the upper edges of her chest. Her eyes fell away when my hands started running up and over her breasts, her breath catching when I first touched her stiffening, tender nipples. She shivered and trembled when I slid my fingers slid over her belly and sides, moving up and over her chest again, then again, lifting her firm breasts only to feel them slip back away. I let her contours guide my senses and my senses guide my fingers, which splayed and tried further to grasp her soft, round chest, but never found enough purchase and kept sliding off, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from her each time.

After a few endless minutes I was finally working the oil—no longer as warm but still comfortably viscous—into the skin above her crotch and then the edges of her groin. With slow, heavy strokes I moved closer and closer to her, alternating between each slippery side until my fingers were running down the middle of her body, finally pinning all of her attention beneath the palm of my hand. Her buttocks had tightened and lifted her up, her breasts were rising and falling, firm, but still yielding to gravity with a rhythmic bounce, shifting every time she breathed. Her eyes were on my hand, slowly increasing in its pace and pressure as it ran back and over the gap in the hot, smooth mound at the apex of her thighs, until I let my middle fingers disappear entirely.

It was just as slippery inside of her but infinitely hotter. Twilight bit her lip and whimpered, once, before gripping the table ferociously. I pressed my other palm down between her groin and belly button and focused on my movement and the wet sounds it it was making.

High mages are weirdly sensitive, but Twilight's first time still didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. She took longer to peak than what I can usually achieve. I was wary of numbing her, and ensured I withdrew occasionally to keep her from slipping back while I stimulated her, and with the right amount of vigor and upwards pressure she did, indeed, climax. I even managed to slip another one in while she was up.

But while she looked thoroughly routed and was still trembling after I’d washed her off, the tightness that crossed her brow as she left betrayed what I had already detected. Something just wasn’t quite right.

She came back. A month later, sure, but I was only slightly worried. This time she ordered the same but insisted on paying up front, and didn’t include the additional fee we had agreed to. I got the message.

Three more we went, front as well as back, oil. Things weren't how they felt before we went past that barrier, but even though these routines no longer did as much for her, she kept getting them.

Lotus was there as well the fourth time, detailing Twilight’s toenails. I had just started rubbing oil into her back.

“Aloe?” Twilight mumbled. It stopped me dead. She almost never talks without being given a subject to ramble over.

I started working again, slowly but my sister had noticed my surprise and was watching me. She must have caught the look in my eye that said I have no idea, because she just shrugged and went back to work. “Yes, Miss Sparkle?”

“Gah,” she stiffened. “Don’t call me that.”

“Very good, Miss Twilight.” Lotus rolled her eyes at me for about five minutes, Twilight kind of loosened. I doubt the response had impressed her.

“What we did a few weeks ago, I was wondering…” She stopped to compose herself before lifting herself up on her elbows, looking dead ahead and interrupting us both. This was it. “If you did that again, could I do something?”

I can guarantee that a look of not-quite-surprise-because-we-never-doubted-ourselves-anyways-did-we was on my face, because it’s exactly what was on my sister’s. “You would like to try something else? What is it?”

“No, that’s not… I mean, that is what I want to try. Doing something.”

“Doing what?”

“Not what,” she said, turning to face me, gazing suggestively but still leaving me baffled. “While...”

Okay. I didn’t understand, but the look on her face was begging me not to make her say it and thereby withdraw the inexplicit phrasing of her probably very explicit request, so with all the language power in my brain I set to deciphering her message. While…

They both smiled when I got it. It must have shown

“...Oh.” I said.

“Yeah.” Twilight responded.

“You want to do something—”

“Yes.”

“To me—”

“Yes.”

“While…”

“Yep!”

…

Yes! Oh, yes! Or to my sister, maybe, but… Yes anyway, whatever!

“I see.” I said calmly, snatching my tense hands away from her back, where they were probably already trembling. “Well, Miss Sparkle, such services are… available, on occasion.” Although they aren’t at the disposal of many of our customers. “For clients that find responding passively too difficult, I mean. Did you... have something in mind?”

She slid her hair over her shoulder and peeked at the door out the corner of her eye. She had something planned all right. “I’ll have to think about it.” She said, dropping her head back down.

Lotus left us, bringing her face to within an inch of mine on her way out with a look that made it clear she would eventually be given a turn. My sister agreed with me about Twilight’s enchanting balance of personality and appearance, but apparently didn’t find her as alluring as I did. I guess I’d been working with her longer, but this happens. Lotus has her pet clients too.

I resumed her massage. It took forever to get through it that day—my fault since I could sense her anticipation and relished drawing it out, working from her back straight under the towel to her legs, then to her feet; before she rolled over and I did her front. Still, eventually she was completely varnished and glistening like a demigoddess in the candlelight, and it looked like I was about to be given the chance to anoint myself with oils before her.

Twilight Sparkle's eyes… I don’t even know where to begin. They’d been watching me ever since I’d turned her over, but when I finished and looked into them I swear I could see the… not love, but… nervous desire, maybe? It sounds stupid, but I can only describe it one way:

Twilight’s eyes were sparkling. It was time, and we both knew it.

“You have been thinking, then?” I asked.

She nodded coyly and slid sideways a little. “Do what you did before, but get up here.”

I blinked in surprise. “Facing which way?” Still only my fingers?

“Away. Legs over my head.”

Outstanding.

I started slipping off my shorts—my sister and I wear these sort of long, close-fitting gown-shirts that more or less cover us to the tops of our legs, and under them short tights that go to mid thigh—but Twilight stopped me, shaking her head.

“Nope, not necessary.” She said, patting the table more aggressively.

I paused for a moment with no idea of what she might have in mind, but I nonetheless climbed over her and planted my knees beside her body. She pushed me forward until I was squatting over her neck and made no further move to touch me.

It was easier to work her upper legs and lower stomach from this position since I was oriented symmetrically and had a better view. I could use my weight more effectively as well. I’m ashamed to say I overdid it: she was so oily by the time I was done that it was coalescing into tiny droplets and puddles before my hands could come back to smooth it over. This time when I slipped between her thighs she parted them a little and pushed her pelvis towards me. I didn’t need to be told twice.

With her legs straight, the critical fold in her skin was a perfect slit that started where her flesh began to rise and disappeared between her legs, and as I ran my thumb back and forth over the length of that welcoming crease, slick and sticky with excitement, I gradually increased the pressure behind it until, in one fluid motion, my two middle fingers again slipped inside her and my thumb met with that bundle of twisted nerves running straight up her spine.

What happened next will be hard to describe. Twilight responded more violently to this than she had to my first insertion, jerking her pelvis up as my senses linked me to her response. What I was not expecting was the rogue wave of pleasure that slammed into me like bus and nearly ripped me back out to sea.

Beneath me I had a naked woman. A naked, slippery, gorgeous woman. My knees touching her torso and my fingers in her cramped, velvety, burning slit were the only points of contact we shared. I was aroused, yes, and I could feel my own excitement mounting as I anticipated of Twilight’s involvement, but I was still confused as to what she was waiting for. She had yet to touch me at all!

Then, once I entered her for that first brush with delight, I could go no further. I fell forward, just barely catching myself with my free hand which itself immediately slipped. Madly searching for support and suddenly worried about hurting the minor deity beneath me, I scrambled to balance myself and wound up clinging to the top of her thigh, my ear pressed against the warm oil coating her soft skin.

Sure, I’m sensitive. But entering her nearly floored me. This was impossible.

Twilight caught my eye. She had been looking down at me between her round breasts and my bent legs. Although she was blushing profusely, what struck me first was her mad-scientist grin that could carry only one terrifying meaning: it worked.

I tested my theory by thumbing her clit again and wound up falling flat against her, my legs thrust outward and off the table, my outfit certainly ruined. High mages…

Either she was working with my special talent, complementing it somehow, or this was something else entirely. All I know is that while I couldn’t actually feel the delicious physical interaction I had been waiting for, she was treating me to a show with my own handiwork as the centerpiece. There was nothing inside me, nothing touching me but the stretchy cloth of my shorts, but I could feel my fingers in her, detached from any sensation like texture or reality but present in the patterns of tight euphoria saturating my groin. I felt what she felt: a foreign, intrusive force guided by the best clandestine intelligence in existence concerning every single one of her greatest weaknesses. Whatever I did to Twilight, and however I did it, was sent straight back through me.

I peeled myself shakily off her. She just leaned back with her head in her hands and waited, smiling like a chess player who knows she's about to win. Not many clients surprise me. Fewer still can leave me flabbergasted. And here I was, cornered. Checkmate.

Trying not to drool, I accepted my fate. There was no point in reservation. If this was how she was going to play, I was going to expend every resource at my disposal to assure mutual devastation to the both of us. Focusing all of my attention on the physical contact I had with her, where my talent’s senses were centered, I only let pleasing her cross my mind and tried to forget about the spikes of euphoria being driven through me. Without any pretense at delicacy, I curled my fingers up into the most sensitive wall of her silky folds, and dragged with as much force as I dared.

I wound up pinned to her again, my oily clothes stuck to her bare torso. My free arm was still wrapped around one of her thighs and I was holding my face against it tightly, but her free leg got away from us both and her ankle was dangling off the table, making my head slide inwards over her thigh. I felt a burning streak of pleasure flash and fizzle in my own core before noticing I was grinding myself against her chest, legs splayed. Then I remembered my hand, and I did it again.

And again.

And again, until the rhythm was familiar to me and I could bear the sensation with equal parts deluded ecstasy and mad focus. The realization that Twilight was feeling exactly what I felt made my fingers tighten even further. I got to hear her moan for the first time. I swore it wouldn’t be the last. But for every one I coaxed out of her I was sent dangerously close to moaning myself, and I nearly hesitated before forcing myself on. I always thought I was good at this, but to be so irrevocably vindicated was delightful.

Eventually I was breathing on her. I could feel the ghostly afterimage of the puffs of hot air on my own tender nethers. I was so, so close, and hadn't been touched at all. Instinct told me to lick her, and since the edges of my lips were already pressing into her thigh it was a simple matter to test that, but I knew from my first contact that it would be too much to bear. I moaned into her leg when the sensation was fed back to me, and Twilight cried out adorably, so with an extra dose of ferventness I slipped out of her once, registered her disappointed shock at the absence, then slid back over her slit and slipped in once again—this time with a third finger—rubbing my thumb right up and over her red, engorged clit with the suicidal excitement of someone jumping in front of a train.

I bit her. It shames me to say it, but I couldn’t stop myself. My lips were on her leg already and what I’d just done to her did, in fact, feel like being hit by a train. Twilight kept up her little squeals, unable to vocalize anything else, her hands clinging at first to my thighs and then to the edges of the table. I whined into her leg, my teeth clinging to her flesh and my tongue pressed solidly against her skin, and with a few more quick strokes we were both finished.

It was absolutely fantastic, one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had. Her thighs came together and squeezed my head once before her free leg again moved off, shaking stiff before dangling well off the table. Twilight just laid there looking silly, fully exposed and completely done, and I knew I was no better. My own limbs could have been anywhere, I only knew where my hands were because one was clinging to her thigh for dear life and the other… well, I never wanted to remove it.

Her leg was marked. I knew it before I pulled back. Rolling next to her, we reclined alongside each other on the narrow table for a few seconds, still panting like animals. Eventually I stood, shakily, clinging to the edge for support.

I hate to go on about it, but Twilight, even ravished and dishevelled and indecent, is seriously one stunning girl. Looking at her like that made me feel bad about marking her.

“Miss Twilight, I must apologize.” I said unevenly. Her face tightened in confusion and she looked at me with concern.

“What are you talking about! Aloe, you don't have to... I mean, that was—” she saw where I was pointing and sucked in through her teeth. “Oh. Well, at least nobody else is gonna see it.”

She said so with some bitterness and I had to agree, albeit with a little dispelled jealousy. Their loss. I definitely couldn’t let Lotus take her for a while. At least until the bruise faded.

Twilight gave me a once-over. “Aloe, you look ridiculous,” she said. I smiled. And you look like a sex cult just mistook you for the physical manifestation of their goddess, which you should probably actually be careful of. I wonder if there really are any cults like that I can join.

I rubbed my cheek and shrugged. “We should clean you u… we should clean up.”

Although I changed my words I just focused on putting her back together. Twilight’s hair needed fixing, and that can take some time because of its thickness. She was a little sweaty and there was some excess oil, both of which I helped her towel off. Once that was done she sent me out and took care of the rest herself. I slipped into a room where we store some of our everyday supplies. Towels and soap, that kind of thing. Lotus had probably heard the door open when I excused myself so I counted on her finding me and left it unlocked. She didn’t disappoint, and was whispering before she even walked in.

“So? What ha—oh, Aloe.” She cut herself off, bringing a hand in front of her shocked smile and staring at me with saucer-eyes.

“Yes?” I said.

Lotus pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “Have you… seen yourself yet?”

I tried to stare her down, but she didn't flinch. I shook my head. “I’m afraid to look.” My sister snickered and hauled me to the corner with the sink.

Twilight had been right, I did look ridiculous. The hair on one side of my head was stuck together awkwardly and the whole front of my gown was glued to my body. It felt a little gross, honestly, tugging at the skin of my stomach and chest when I moved. The crotch of my shorts was uncomfortably wet as well, and the worst part is I was grinning like an idiot. I couldn’t even get my eyebrows to come down.

I started washing my face and my sister draped a towel over my neck. “I’m next, Aloe.” She declared.

My hands froze. The phantom texture of Twilight’s thigh between my teeth was still raw. “No,” I said. “Soon.”

She scrunched up her face like a child. Like she has done since we were children when something was unreasonably denied to her. “And why not! Did you do something? You better not have lost her—” I snorted at that, I couldn’t stop myself. Lotus hates being cut off, but she collected herself anyway. “Right. She is coming back though?”

“I should think so.”

“And you’re not just being selfish? You’re always up early when she has a booking, you know. Don’t let her get in your head, Aloe.”

I turned to face her, towelling myself with the cloth she had given me. Her arms were crossed and she had an eyebrow raised indignantly. “Too late for that,” I muttered.

“What?”

“You’ll see.” I also remember telling you I like her so that little observation isn’t very impressive, Inspector Blossom. “And I said you could go, didn’t I?”

“Did you… you didn’t… mark her?” Lotus asked, leaning way in.

This always happens. How does she know? I shrugged, then realizing I was biting my lip, spat it out quickly.

“You bit her?” Surprise really made her expression cute, and for a moment I thought about pretending I was messing with her—but she wouldn’t be able to hold her breath forever.

I nodded.

Lotus actually gasped. She stared at me forever like she didn’t believe me. “You’re serious, Aloe?”

There being no real reason to break my wall of silence, I turned back to the mirror and watched Lotus over my shoulder. I could almost see her brain crunching through the possibilities, it looked like every second I kept her out of the loop was driving her closer to a heart attack.

“Did she… Aloe, did she ask you to?”

This time I couldn’t help myself. I grinned like a vampire—a very satisfied, pretty vampire—and shook my head. I almost laughed, even. It was so comical, I’d just bitten a client and that client was Twilight Sparkle!

At some point my sister found her jaw and brought it back up to her face. “I will be next, Aloe.”

“No you won’t, Lotus.”

She eyed me for a moment, and walked out. “We’ll see.”

But we never did. Twilight came in three days before her next appointment on a visit that was strictly business. She showed up right when we opened, speaking to someone outside. We usually don’t have an appointment in our earliest slot but I was manning the desk in case someone visited. She came in alone.

My smile, as always, was calm and confident, and in no way indicative of the little pang of anticipation I felt.

“Welcome, Miss Sparkle. What can I do for you this morning?”

Her eyes shifted around until she was sure we were alone, but then she gave me a carnal smile (from which I think I am still recovering) and bounced up to the counter. “Hi Aloe, thanks! It’s about my account, obviously.”

I slipped a finger under my hair band and slid it towards my ear. “Your account is settled, I think—”

“I know,” she said happily. “I want to cancel my appointments.”

My hand froze above my ear and it took me a second to double-check her words in my brain. Unfortunately, I hadn't misheard her. “I see,” I said. You probably could have been more delicate about it then, maybe tried not to sound like you were declaring a national day of celebration, but whatever. I’d miss Twilight, but I have other favorite clients. None of them live as close as the library, but still. “I can do that right away, Miss Sparkle, but—”

“Whoa, not yet. I just said that I want to.”

“You just… want to?”

“Yep!” Twilight tilted her head with a friendly smile.

“I… If I could ask, why have you chosen to do this?”

“So I can book new ones, of cour—” before she could finish her bubbly sentence her eyes shot open and she went completely silent, bringing her hands to her mouth and dropping her usual aloofness to the floor. She went on, suddenly quite ashamed. “Oh. Aloe I’m… umm... that... may not have been the best way to put it.”

No, perhaps not. “Not at all, Miss Sparkle,” though in the future I invite you to direct your accounts inquiries to my sister, as I may not be able to survive another one. “You wish to modify your schedule?”

“Yeah, or… not quite, actually.”

“You,” oh, let me guess… “You wish to try something else?”

Her shyness deepened. She knew she’d been giving us (mostly me) the runaround when it came to treatments and I think she almost apologized again, but this time was different. She knew what she was about to ask for and she had for a while. It wasn’t just what we’d done before, then.

“Can we talk somewhere private?” She asked.

I looked around. Nobody was there. The waiting room was empty, the baths were empty, Lotus was probably on her way and I couldn’t be bothered to check the schedule to see who else was, but seriously, the spa was empty.

“Of course, Miss Sparkle.”

She trailed me to a private room near the back, and I shut the door behind us. Before I had the chance to offer her a seat, she was talking.

“I want a nuru massage.”

I blinked, unsure I’d heard her. “You want a… I’m sorry, you want a bodyslide?”

With her face burning a fiery red and staring angrily at the ground, she went on. “It’s called a nuru massage.”

“One variant is called that, but—“

“Well I want that. That one, with the seaweed stuff, and… that. That’s how you say it, right?” I nodded, amazed. “Good. I couldn’t find it in a dictionary or look up anything to reference the pronunciation, if you can believe it. I was really worried about getting it wrong.”

“I... see.” Judging by her timidness, the pronunciation wasn’t her most significant concern. Celestia, Twilight, being left alone with a mind like yours in that cramped little loft is just asking for trouble. If I had told you something like that even existed on your first visit you’d never have relaxed again, and then you just came out and asked for one.

Her attention had gone from the floor to the ceiling, which was apparently more interesting, but she was still waiting. “So… can you do it?”

“I…” yes, and I’d have you in a bath already if I could, but “these massages are not so popular with women, you know. They were created—”

Her eyes suddenly found mine and I was silenced by a look of visceral smugness. “They were created independently several times in history when red light districts in certain cities were shut down as a way of selling services to bring clients to climax without direct stimulation or penetration that eventually evolved into several varieties of erotic massage of varying sophistication—” (she paused to inhale about half the air in the room here) “—in their involvement of technique and material. I know. Can. You. Do. It.” She finished, looking at me boastfully but still blushing fiercely, even a little shamefully.

She’d obviously done her research.

I shouldn’t have done what I did then, but she’d gotten so worked up over it and after her heart-stopping entrance I decided she deserved to be toyed with. Doing my best to appear detached I looked at her, concerned, and kept my answer to myself. She watched me, waiting, as I played idly with my lip using my fingers.

“This…I don’t know if this can be done, Miss Sparkle.” I said finally.

“No?” She asked, possibly with genuine sadness. I remember feeling disappointed in myself for leading her on. “But we already… I don’t understand. Why?”

“You have quite a few appointments, and it may be difficult to reschedule all of them.”

She blinked.

Our spa never gets quieter than it was right then, and she spent what felt like an hour trying to stare through me with her big, purple eyes. Eventually she smiled softly. “I deserved that, didn’t I?”

I shrugged, but smirked reassuringly. “You would prefer morning or afternoon?” Morning would be better since I wouldn’t be tired and I’d still be clean, but nobody wants to spend the rest of the day distracted by that.

Twilight thought about it. “When do you close?”

I knew it. Oh well. At least I could prepare, then. I needed to order a few things… “Don’t let that concern you, Miss Sparkle. If you prefer the afternoon I will need some extra time I think, for this, so we can start late if you would like. Sundays maybe… we close early Saturday, but mid-afternoon would be fine.” Twilight looked to the side, exposing her profile nicely, probably trying to remember her commitments. None surfaced. “Three, shall we say?”

She started nodding slowly, then sped up slightly and just kept going. “Three. Three Saturday. That’s fine... Wow, that’s soon.”

I looked at her for a moment. Her breathing had become unsteady, I don’t think she was completely convinced that this was actually happening. “Miss Sparkle?” She didn’t respond. “Twilight?”

“Yes!” She squeaked, blinking back to attention and swallowing. Her eyes had widened considerably. Too bad, Twilight, you shouldn’t have asked if you wanted to be turned down. You’re in for it now!

“You know, you should have brought this up sooner.” I said, placing my hand on her shoulder and squeezing her muscles gently. She tensed at my touch, but her neck went limp once I gave it a few slow squeezes and she tilted her head away, exposing her collar as her eyes fluttered closed. “It may be hard to ask, I know, but if I am going to say no, I am going to say no.” Although there’s a pretty low risk of that, really. “That is the worst that could happen, yes? Miss Sparkle? Yes?”

“Mhmmnn…” She mumbled. In agreement, maybe, though I did have to squeeze it out of her.

“You have not been doing the neck exercises I showed you.”

Twilight whined like a guilty puppy. I knew some of the tension was due to the stress behind her question, but still, she wasn’t doing them. I pulled my hand back. The suddenly doe-eyed Twilight—I swear to Celestia—swooned. “We must be more candid with each other, I think, if I am to provide these services for you. Yes?”

“Mhm,” she nodded.

“Good. Thank you. Remember that I work for you, right?”

“Mhm,” she nodded more aggressively.

“Three?”

“Three. Saturday?”

“Saturday, Miss Sparkle. Until then.” I have a wholesale catalog to find.

Twilight left, stretching her neck as she walked out. All I could think was how lucky it was that I had been the one behind the counter that morning. I guess we did see, in a way.

Lotus was annoyed that I had managed to snatch Miss Twilight’s next appointment, but when I told her what she probably had in store later she got over it. She even helped me prepare, if only by inflating the mattress and then lazing around on it while I flitted about getting ready.

“You stretched this morning, Aloe?” She asked me while I was cleaning the floor.

Yes Lotus. I stretch every morning, almost always with you. And I’m the flexible one, remember?

“Do you remember how to do this?” She asked me while I adjusted thermostat.

Yes Lotus. What is there to forget?

“Is that warm enough?” She asked as I was setting the bottles into a basin of hot water.

Yes Lotus. You want me to practice on you or something?

“There’s no time now! You should have told me about this sooner!” Maybe she was still a bit angry, but I was kind of leaving her out. Too bad.

“Should I… wait?” She asked while we were sitting, waiting, in the empty lobby.

I did my best to mimic her usual cheeky smile. “If you’d like, Lotus, but this is going to take a while.” Who cares if I was leaving her out?

It might be worth probing Twilight for her receptiveness to Lotus’s inclusion, though. I’m not sure what I’d choose between getting only half her appointments or sharing them all but doing only half as many. Business decisions are difficult sometimes.

Lotus glared at me until she was out of sight. Hopefully she had a nice afternoon. I’d have to make up with her later—there was surely something that would satisfy her giant, throbbing ego—but not before regaling her with every little detail of my own overtime work. Flipping open a magazine to no page in particular, I took a seat in our dim lobby and waited. Models in swimsuits already, it was still only spring.

There was a quiet knock, and a hand pushed the door open enough to fit an arm through. Quietly as a kitten I snuck up and swung it open, and Twilight spilled in with a yelp.

“Good afternoon, Miss Sparkle.” I smiled at her professionally as she tried to recover. With a quick peek outside I locked the door behind us. “This way please!”

My sister sometimes makes good suggestions. Since Twilight was coming after hours we had shut down the rest of the building, so while it was bright outside, only a few dim tendrils of light were sneaking in through the lobby and down the hallways. The place felt empty. It was empty. It felt like I was leading her through a secret passage to a hidden grotto, and I’m sure it was having the same effect on her. By the time we arrived at the room I had chosen—spacious enough to replace the couch with a mattress and not feel cramped—we were in almost total darkness. With her sun-spoiled eyes Twilight was probably blind. I opened the door.

She swallowed as a wave of hot air washed over her. The private room was lit warmly and glowing in soft oranges and yellows. My sister and I prefer the neutral pastels in which we chose our décor, but for this kind of thing it doesn’t hurt to dim the lights and turn up the heat lamps for a change. I ushered her in before much of the nice, hot air had a chance to escape and, to be doubly sure (even though anyone who could get past the main door had the keys to get in here), locked the door behind us with a heavy thunk that made Twilight jump.

Slipping out of my shoes and sliding them under a shelf, I walked past my dazed guest to lean against the counter and let the heated tiles warm my toes. The familiar scent of fresh-cut flowers that fills every room in our spa was stronger in the nearly-tropical heat. There wasn’t really anywhere for her to sit while she took everything in, so she just stood around, awkwardly fidgeting. Someone (not her, surely) had painted her nails a dark, sparkling palette of purples to match her hair, and to me they looked like candy. I remember hoping guiltily for her toes to match.

It was unseasonably warm for early spring and Twilight had dressed accordingly, in her fashionably off-center sort of way. Dark canvas shorts over dark, rolled-up tights and an odd-fitting bright purple sweater that had a collar wider than her shoulders, with a white top underneath and what I could already see were black bra straps. All things that would be fun to take off her. After letting her eyes linger on the grey inflatable and the wooden bowls on the counter—both new additions to our inventory, the best I could get on short notice—she finally caught me looking at her. I’d usually have stopped and glanced away, but this situation merited another kind of attention that was far too easy to give.

I pulled my hair out of its band and ran my fingers through it, letting it hang loosely and naturally around my face. I do like my work look, but it can be a little goofy: it makes my forehead look enormous, for one thing. Twilight’s eyes trailed my fingers, her own hand feeling a strand of her long, dark hair. There was no reason not to jump right into things, but she looked like she had something to say. I could have pushed it back—I was clearly in control—but I thought it would be better to sound her out now and have my fun on her next few hundred visits.

“I’m going to begin, Miss Twilight,” I said, speaking softly, tugging out my earrings and setting them by my headband in a woven tray next to the sink, before reaching behind my neck to undo my choker. “You know what is going to happen now?”

“I think so.” She said. It was the first time she had spoken and her voice was a little quiet from disuse, and possibly anxiety. “I mean, there seems to be some variation, like you said. It’s not an exact science, but… I mean, you do have a… method?” She tried to speak gently, but in the empty building there was nowhere for her voice to hide.

“Well,” I began, clicking my nails against the marble counter top. “Not quite. I do find it best to permit some variation, as you put it. It can be good, this service leaves much room for… flexibility.” I moved a step or two closer to her, dropping my eyes to her legs for a moment before bringing them back up to her face. Celestia, Twilight looked cute terrified.

She nodded slowly, not quite able to swallow my double-entendre whole, but trying diligently. “…Like?”

“Like today, we will shower; next time, a bath?”

“I showered already, Aloe—” she said, and her eyes immediately shot open with fear. “Not that we can’t as well I mean, also… or—”

“The gel works best on wet skin, Miss Sparkle, that is all.” I wouldn’t need to wash her hair, then. I don’t really mind, but it does take time.

Twilight gathered herself again and looked around shiftily. “Hot,” she said.

“Again, the gel. It is quite… mm...” I had the word, but I let her find it.

“Conductive?” She offered timidly.

“Yes,” I smiled. “Conductive. And water-based, thus—”

“The humidity? So it won’t dry out?” It was obviously possible to overpower her nervousness with her interest in the science.

“That’s right,” I said warmly, letting myself sound impressed. This time she blushed with a little pride. “But we expect nothing less from our clever librarian, especially if she could find this kind of thing in Ponyville’s small archive…” Overstepping my boundaries a little, I hooked a finger over the edge of her stretchy sweater and pulled her towards me.

She lifted her cheeks shyly and looked up at the ceiling. “I might have had to dig a little deeper…”

“Oh? I see.” I had suspected as much. “I have not seen such things in any public collection since moving so close to the capital. But it is as you say, the moisture keeps it from drying too quickly.”

“How long will it last?”

“Let me worry about that, Twilight.” I said, shaking my head. “Now, you came early, but I think we have already begun our session.” I stepped even closer, so that there was maybe enough room between us for someone to slip through sideways. At full height and with Twilight slouching, I could look ever-so-slightly down at her.

“Yeah,” she started, still hesitant, eyes pleading for another few seconds. “Any last advice?”

Even though I knew she was stalling I still did my best to think of something meaningful. “You will… how should I say this… you know of the history of this practice, yes? Well, you’ll feel its origins, Miss Sparkle.” Twilight was looking at me quizzically, about to interrupt, but I shook my head. “No. I will not explain this to you, you will understand soon.”

I wasn’t lying—there’s reallyno way to mask that this is a purely sensual service—but I was going to do my best to obfuscatein the meantime. The uncertainty you can force on someone when so much ambiguity in roles and behaviour can be left unexplained is truly delicious, and with a client like Twilight it’s the icing on the cake. At first there are clear signals that we are still a client and practitioner. I undress first, then undress her. I lead. I test the water, guide her, massage her. But while I go about my business I get to pepper her with little intrusions, cross the line back and forth, confound her so much that she has no idea what my role is and therefore cannot possibly know hers, and the tension and uncertainty mount until they finally spill over and drive her crazy. I can see why these caught on. They’re quite fun to give, and I usually end up getting as much out of it as the client.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

“Just try to relax, Twilight. You will find it comes naturally and you will learn quickly, I think, but you may wish not to speak. You are ready?”

Twilight nodded, but found one last question. “Why do you know how to do this?”

I saw the alarm in her eyes when she realized how she had phrased it, but I let it slide. She could know if she wanted, but not now. “Be careful, the gel is more slippery than you are expecting. We are no longer working with oil. Don’t be afraid to involve yourself. My sister says something sometimes: embrace the spectacle.”

And right on cue, we felt the silence overtake us.

I undressed quickly and smoothly, slipping out of my thin clothes and folding them with practiced precision before placing them silently behind me. This sometimes calls for more teasing and attitude, a lip-biting, eyelash-fluttering, slightly-self-mocking flourish to start off, but there would be plenty of time for that in her next visits. Right now in Twilight’s mind I was still the professional, the girl in uniform, and I didn’t want to dissolve that notion yet. Besides, I felt her eyes on me—I saw her watching me, red-faced but no longer ashamed, and I knew how to direct her attention. Already she was looking where I wanted her to. I could see us in the mirror, watch myself step towards her out of the corner of my eye.

“So, really… completely—” She started, but I fixed my eyes on hers, and she went quiet.

In my first contact with her I was running my hands over her hips and searching for the hem of her sweater. Grasping it tightly, not yet exposing my palms to her sides but keeping my knuckles against her shirt, I pulled it off delicately and she lifted her arms obligingly. Next I moved behind her. Her shirt was tighter than her sweater had been and now I let myself feel her sides as I removed it, sliding my hands along the ticklish skin beneath the bunching, stretchy fabric, sneaking my fingertips along the edges of her bra and just passively lifting her breasts as I slid her shirt over them, until I could pull that over her head too.

Still toeing the line between clinical precision and restrained lust, I reached around her with both arms and ran my thumbs around the hem of her shorts, setting to work undoing her bottoms. With nothing for her arms to do her hands just hovered over her hips. She was clearly trying to appear as though all was as it should be, but something was stopping her. Keeping her on edge. It might have been my chest gently pressed into her back, but who am I to say?

With my chin in the crook of her neck I could look straight down through her cleavage to watch my fingers unbuttoning her fly. No zip—interesting choice, but fittingly atypical. It also meant I could take my time undoing every button. The thought that she might even have wanted this made me involuntarily squeeze her and she tensed up slightly, but I played it off quickly before mentally chiding myself. Not yet, focus!

Eventually her shorts were undone and I let them fall to her feet, eagerly anticipating the rare opportunity to feel her familiar legs and superb hips in tights. I almost didn’t want to undress her further—she wears incredibly sexy underwear for someone as chaste as she suggests she is—but I did.

With a few less evocative motions and a little increased proximity I had her naked. I had us both naked. Between us now there was nothing visually distinct to cue for behavior. Now, it was just a game of follow the leader.

Setting her clothes in a pile beside mine I took a moment to compose myself and let her wait. When I turned around she was still standing where I left her, arms crossed beneath her breasts like she was cold, even though I could see the moisture beading on her brow.

“Here,” I said, moving to her side and placing my palm at the base of her spine, guiding her towards the glass enclosure of the shower. I went in first—it was even hotter under the heat lamps there, but I needed to set a good temperature—and once the water was flowing I stepped through it and reached for her again with a dripping hand. I kept the water hotter than what one would generally use for cleaning, about the temperature of a warm bath or a hot spring, perfect for thermally relaxing muscles. We have spacious showers with broad overhead nozzles and wooden benches, and I had Twilight sit there for me.

She winced when the heat first hit her, but was indeed already clean, so once her hair was wet I shaped it unobtrusively behind her back. Using a floral soap I prepared a sponge, and somehow guessing what I was about to ask of her she raised a foot for me. After cleaning whatever she indicated—spots that she probably finds hard to reach, feet, back, and so on—I slipped behind her and quickly soaped myself up before washing her back. Now for the fun bit.

I have a little theory when it comes to doing stuff like this to people. No matter what, if it’s someone’s first time it’s guaranteed to fly by. The first time I received one and the first time I gave one were both like that, and while nobody in Ponyville has asked me for one of these massages other than Twilight, everything else I do leads me to believe I’m right. It grants me a fair bit of leeway when doing a first-timer, but it’s really important to ensure that the blur of events they’ll be rushed through leaves them aching for more. Being show-offy and expecting interaction are paths to losing customers before you even have them. It also sets their future expectations, which leads me to another important fact: sex is almost completely psychological.

I know, big shocker, but it’s true. Feelings like excitement and desire don’t come from erogenous zones or stimulation, they come from the brain. Don’t believe me? Pick an erogenous zone, your favorite one. Now imagine a pretty, talented beautician rubbing herself against it in a luxurious private bath that smells like a garden. Take your time, do it. Now imagine your best friend doing it. Or someone platonic. In your kitchen, or your garage. How about a family member? Yeah, right? Bad example for me, I guess, and some of those places might be a little exciting now that I think about it, but the point still stands.

I’m trying to say that massages like this don’t exist just as a substitute for sex. If you’re skilled enough, you can make one better than sex. I can make one better than sex. Well, normal sex anyway, since it’s a kind of sex too, but that’s not what’s important. What’s important is that it gives you a million ways to get in somebody’s head, fire them up, confuse them, lead them on, make a toy out of them or make them play with you like a toy… I end up getting just as much of a massage as the client, like I said. Why should slipping and sliding all over someone feel so good on its own? I don’t think it does, it’s really everything else. Controversial, maybe, but without the enthusiasm and mutual excitement, it’s really just two meatbags covered in jelly. What Twilight was really buying—was really here for—is an expression and fulfillment of raw, mutual desire. It’s mental. It’s dopamine, actually.

So we’d been in the shower for a bit. I was clean but Twilight was still a little soapy, so I had her stand and shoved aside the stool, finally bringing her warm body against mine beneath the steady stream of rushing water. It was easy to take my time rinsing her, turning her and feeling her for what remained of the lather I’d created, pushing it off and splashing her down with a redirected palm or two of water, making sure I never let the innuendo slip away. I brushed her breast accidentally once, then palmed it a little the next time; she looked at me suspiciously but I was careful and gave no sign to indicate anything was amiss. I moved in like I was about to kiss her and it fooled her, her hand was suddenly clutching my hip like it had broken free from a chain, but she recoiled when she realized it wasn’t going to happen and looked a bit embarrassed. I didn’t back off.

Damn. I really wanted to start on her in the shower, and if she was going to make these a regular purchase I’d be sure to do so in the future—I think it's worth going through a little more intensive foreplay before moving on—but today I was resolved to save it for the mat. Just before I reached her groin while I was sliding my hand up her leg, I killed the water and pulled back.

Twilight was red. She still looked uncertain, but impatience was beginning to win out, lighting up in her eyes. I dried her off with a special towel we ordered for its terrible quality. Barely absorbent, it’s meant to leave you damp. I used the same one on myself.

It feels weird leaving a shower still dripping. It’s contradictory, it feels like you should be at a beach or a pool, somewhere recreational. I find it kind of exciting, it’s another one of those elements that violates the pretense of a treatment and makes it feel more wild and unplanned. Disorganized, almost. I can’t tell if Twilight felt it at that level of abstraction too, but she was getting used to my groping while I was drying her and even pushing back when she anticipated me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was already having fun.

Her nervousness returned when she was standing before the mat, though. I’d opted for a large one even without Lotus’s prompting (it fits three, four in a pinch). Without knowing its intended purpose one could easily mistake it for an odd pool toy, but to the initiated the sizable cushion-parts at each end are clearly for establishing footholds. My sister had left one of those thin towels on the pillow-end for comfort and friction (and to cover the obnoxious logo that had been left unmentioned in the catalog), even tucking it in. Generous of her. Twilight stared at our new apparatus with a little fright, like she was looking at a saddled horse but had no idea how to mount it.

I set my hand on her lower back and pushed her forward. “Relax. Just lie down, Miss Sparkle, and I will take care of everything.” She looked at me and I gestured at the bed, and finally she made an attempt.

It was as funny as I expected. Since she was already slippery the slick vinyl squeaked under her and she winced in embarrassment at every noise, awkwardly shifting her naked body through a clumsy series of knee-jerk motions that eventually brought her from standing to lying prone. She kept her legs wide for balance until she was down and squirmed until she was comfortable. I favored her with a tiny giggle and was rewarded when her shoulders and bottom tightened, but she heard me move to the sink and did eventually loosen up. She’d be quite relaxed by the time I was ready.

I hadn’t actually done this for a while, so I was extra careful not to be wasteful. The gel was warm and already soft when I poured some into a wooden bowl (wooden because if you slip and kick it across the room then you won't be naked on an air mattress covered in lube that's surrounded by broken glass). I accidentally thinned it out too much and had to add more, and ended up with a lot when I was done. So much for being careful, but oh well.

There was already a towel by the mattress for me to kneel on when I brought down my bowl of slime, followed at every step by Twilight’s antsy gaze. Despite the heat in the room I actually felt a little cool after the shower, and was myself getting eager to be smothered in warm girl. I caught her eyeing me playing with my gooey concoction, so I lifted a few strands out of the bowl and let them stretch out from my fingertips until, one, by one, they snapped in quick succession. Her eyes narrowed like she was slipping into a dream.

I cupped a palmful and broke it free of the rest. Before much of it had a chance to run between my fingers I pressed it to the top of my chest, and it was squeezed from below my hands to slide down my body. Twilight was watching me rub myself and I had every intention of giving her a show, but despite my warning to her even I had forgotten how slippery it was and suddenly wanted nothing more than to play with it for its own sake. I didn’t even notice her start biting her lip as she watched me run my hands over my shiny midriff, stomach, and bust, it took me that long just to remember I wasn’t only playing with myself.

I looked down. Suitably coated, and the gel was pooling between my thighs. placing the dish on the mattress beside her I slipped up and over her, setting my knees beside her ribs and hovering my backside over hers. I was dripping a little and I knew she could feel me shifting the mattress with my weight, so I moved myself from side to side so that she slid into my legs each time, driving them further apart until I was squatting on her completely and just gyrating against her. With a scoop of gel, I set to work on her back.

Her excitement was palpable, but manageable. Between the familiar pattern of massage that she knew and my not-infrequent grinding against her rump I managed to squeeze much of the tension out of her muscles and save what I wanted for the next step. It was a short massage, to be sure, but I can work quickly if I need to. She went limp beneath my hands, taking in whatever sensations it pleased me to give her, and I felt deliciously powerful. Giving her another quick coating of gel and scooping some onto myself when it pooled in the small of her back, I pushed my hair behind my ears and without any fanfare, fell to press my entire weight against her and wound up with a face full of purple.

It worked, she hadn’t expected it. I was a little worried about slipping off but I caught my balance and slid until I was centered, then just laid there for a second to let her get used to my weight. Truthfully, I kind of needed to get used to her too; I’d forgotten how good this felt and it was Twilight I was on top of.

I felt up her sides with my hands, easily slipping between the curves of the frictionless mattress and the edges of her stomach when I wanted, before running them up her arms to entwine our fingers on the coarse, damp towel. Holding tightly, I pushed myself back and began sliding over her in small circles. I was rewarded with a sharp flexing of every muscles in her body.

“Nnn, Aloe,” she moaned, “you—”

I nuzzled the crook of her neck on my next pass and she cut herself off. My movements were lengthening and I was learning where to focus the pressure: she gave the best responses when I pressed my breasts against her back as I slid forward and when I shifted the weight to my pelvis when it was right against her slippery backside, but her legs were still mostly dry and I couldn’t let that slide. Pulling myself over her spine once more and grazing it with my lips, I slid back past her elevated rump—giving it a quick squeeze—before twisting myself around and pulling one of her legs up between mine.

Again I made this new limb the focus of my attention, but now made sure not to waste any potential contact elsewhere. While I was running my fingers from her thigh to her calf, improvising patterns and pinning both to my torso, I kept one foot in contact with her side and the other—whose leg was extended straight outward—sliding up and down her free calf. Neither of us had yet acknowledged our more intimate points of contact with anything but a reflexive nudge, preferring to focus on the more extreme regions. Twilight hadn’t even moved to reciprocate yet.

That is until I accidentally tickled her, running my thumb a little too gently over her slick foot, and she let out a startled yelp as she attempted to pull away. But since there was nothing to gain purchase on she just wound up tangling us more tightly as she tried to recover, snorting softly once, when she noticed she had pinned my leg under hers and started playing footsie with me while I worked.

I slipped under her to work her other leg, which was already slick from our little game. This time I could rub my entire body against her. With one leg sliding along her side and the other bent over her rear and laying on her back this took considerable force, especially as both Twilight and the mattress became more slippery, it’s grooves diligently retaining what little gel came off us.

With her foot beside my face I gave her sensitive toes a lick, grinning when she reacted even better than before and wrapping my free leg around her so that I had the leverage to grind against her thigh. This time I made no move to appear inadvertent.

Once she started anticipating me, flexing her own leg against my groin when I tightened against her, I reluctantly slipped back and sat up between her calves, pulling myself towards her with my hands on her hips and spreading my legs beneath me. From where I sat she was totally exposed, her long legs spreading just enough to accommodate me and pull the muscles of her buttocks to either side, stretching out her smooth, perfect skin which was broken only by her glistening butthole and beneath it, the visible end of her slick pussy. I used my fingertips to trace the edges of both and then slid a hand below her pelvis, lifting her a little. She slid her knees forward in response, revealing herself even more clearly.

I licked her. For real this time, running my tongue along length of her slit to get a sense of how she felt. Seeing her toes curl and her rear rise further at the contact was unimaginably satisfying; I almost dove back in immediately, but for some reason spotting the still-fading mark I’d left last time made me pause and run my palm over it before kissing it apologetically, which made my lips sticky with flavorless gel. I moved on.

Hardly had I fixed my lips around that nexus of nerves at the center of her body before she was pulling her little trick again. When I slipped my tongue out and ran it along her sensitive skin for a few probing, lazy licks, I felt suddenly wetter and painfully aware of it, like I might even be dripping. If this was truly how she felt what I was doing I worried I might melt her, it made me pin myself against her with even more force and when I did, the tightness in my groin was met with patterns of scalding, unbearable glee.

Delightful as it was, I was moving too fast. In one fluid, squeaky, wet motion I detached myself with a squick and slid right underneath her, flipping us both when I came to a stop. Twilight’s front wasn’t as slippery yet, but with a few quick strokes and a gratuitous demonstration of just how flexible I can be, that was taken care of. My massage resumed from the front, and now, already aroused, I took my time.

Really though, I lost track of time. Between the immediate texture of bare, slimy skin invading my senses everywhere, the cyclical contact of sensitive areas with unusual, novel body parts, my sensitivity to her responsiveness, and her own magical feedback forcing me to contend with the arousal of two people, I had very little time to plan my actions. Something like intuition guided me, tangling me and untangling me in her limbs again and again. Occasionally we held each other trapped, then found ourselves released and scrambling for purchase, and all the while the squeaky, rubbery sounds of the mattress beneath us (and the sucking and smacking of our own flesh) made it impossible to look beyond the immediate, physical, embarrassingly carnal world and take refuge in the burning sensations within us.

Sooner or later I was facing her. Sliding slowly up and down her torso, pressing my breasts against hers and feeling them inevitably slide off before I brought them back, making up a game on the spot where I tried to keep our nipples touching as long as possible. Hers were stiff but soft at the edges, perfectly round and ever-so-slightly inflamed. Her hands were on my hips, then my sides, then gripping my butt, and eventually she held me tight and made me stop. Twilight’s legs kept mine pinned from the outside, but other than that my full weight was on her front. We’d been looking at each other but I hadn’t been tracking my expressions; truthfully I was lost in her eyes. So dark, but such a friendly color; they reveal exactly what you need to know and nothing more. Not what she wants you to know, mind you. Her eyes know better. Right then they told me that she had no idea if what she was about to do was okay, but that she was going to do it anyway.

She kissed me.

I allowed it. Within a few seconds she had her arms wrapped around my neck and was holding me by my hair, forcefully pinning me against her. I slid my own arms beneath her and tightened our embrace even further, as much as I possibly could. I know I cut us short and that it didn’t last long, but every second our tongues were in contact I did my best to anticipate hers and tie it in knots, and her spell gave it the weird effect of feeling like I was both kissing her and kissing myself, of being handled and handler, all at once. It was quite astonishing and very wearing.

Silence had slipped in. Our mouths stayed connected by a strand of colorless gel when I pulled away.

“Aloe,” she said. Purred, if I can be permitted some immodesty.

I slid away from her head, back down and up again a couple times for a few fervent pecks, but each time I got further and further away. The gel was drying and getting stickier, but would still be fine for a while. Picking up where I left off, but this time with her eyes on me, I ran my tongue again over the absolute center of her attention.

I was getting used to the feedback now. It still burned and left me aching, but it was tolerable. Unable to decide whether to look at her face or at the soft mound between her legs, both getting more flushed, I settled on her breasts and watched them slowly start to heaveas I brought my skills to bear on the sensitive tracts of skin beneath my lips. Mixed in with our slimy, odorless medium I could already taste the flavor of her, diluted by our eager inclusion of copious amounts of lubricant. I nonetheless did my best to seek out the her essence like nectar, and was rewarded with an intense, wet warmth spreading from my groin.

Stopping, I spun myself to face her. If she was going to play, the least she could do was play manually. She raised an eyebrow but didn’t complain, and after petting me a little she tested the waters with her tongue.

I realized immediately that this was going to be short-lived. Her leg trembled and a shudder rolled through her body, and I could only assume that her little spell was channeling my sensations back through her as well. She stopped momentarily, and then with an awkward, squeaky twist flipped me on my back so that she was on top. Fine by me.

Twilight kept a lot of pressure on my face but I held her tighter anyway and slipped inside her with shallow, quick flicks of my tongue. Because of the link she had forged between us it was virtually certain that we’d climax together, and since I wanted to savor the experience (and our fates were no less entwined than our bodies) I felt no need to rush her. The spell gave her a quick learning ability—she just had to follow the signs on herself to figure out how I liked being touched—but since it was her who was doing it I didn’t really care that much. I just wanted her.

Now that she had exposed her appetite for exploration I could feel her finally starting to relax. It sent a warm feeling through me which she must have sensed. Far away, Twilight giggled and dragged her tongue roughly, almost jokingly over the edges of my slit. I pushed back eagerly.

We kept quiet for a while, a little self-conscious of the sounds we both were making as well as the slippery squeaking of the mattress. Twilight, despite her noble efforts, was the first one to finish. I could feel the tightness in her legs and the warmth that joined it spreading outward in me when I slipped into her more and more firmly, occasionally flattening my tongue and slithering it over her swollen lips and tiny, engorged clit. She was far from being numbed so I seized upon the chance and quickly brought her to the edge with a battery of sharp, long, rough strokes against that sensitive bunde of nerves.

The tension immediately filled me to the brim and I kept us both there with a few dangerous licks, before Twilight got the hint and, with a cute little whimper, stuck out her tongue and shoved us roughly over the edge.

I squirmed when we finished but she shot up harshly, shoving herself against my face and rubbing me in earnest, not screaming but almost surely biting her lip as she groaned through her nose. She moaned at a higher pitch than usual, trying to talk but managing only a few sighs, “Whoa”’s, and “Ahhh!”’s.

Still deep within my own orgasm I was pretty surprised and felt a little abandoned. I could feel she was high enough for another and I felt I was too, but my brain didn’t have the motor control yet to send any signals and hers certainly couldn’t have interpreted them. I had no qualms with the notion of granting her another, but since I was apparently already reflexively fingering myself I kept my tongue still and hoped she hadn’t severed the connection (but even if she had I was sneaking another one in, end of story).

“Aloe?” Twilight asked apprehensively, before crying out in alarm. “Aloe! You— Nnnnnggah!” She released, her voice dropping into a satisfied whine.

Yeah, turns out she hadn’t severed the connection. It might not have been the best thing to do when she was still riding my face, but at that point I didn’t care. Fired up by her cute little moans and now with full control, I dragged us both through a seemingly endless orgasm that left me twitching and moaning into Twilight’s burning pussy, while her legs trembled beside my head until she eventually collapsed, still unable to stop grinding against my face. She fell on my torso and nearly wound up biting me back, and when I finally released us she just stayed there, limp and quivering, nerves probably so fried that a misplaced stroke would send her recoiling into a twitching mound of squirming, gibberish-dribbling mush.

So naturally, I tickled her.

She squawked once, almost like she was about to cry, but then slowly turned herself with great, deliberate focus to face me, ripping my arms off her and pinning them with all the strength in her body. I was panting and giggling; her breath was uneven and animal. She suddenly grabbed both my cheeks and kissed me. There was no strength left behind her lips, only moisture and the unmistakable flavor of our respective secretions, but the sheer delight she felt came through. I played along for as long as she wanted.

Twilight was blushing furiously when she pulled back, but grinning foolishly nonetheless. “That was really, really fun.” She said.

“Yeah?” I asked, squeezing her hips and feeling them tighten in surprise as her eyes widened.

“Stop it! I’m serious Aloe— ALOE!” I cut it out and let her catch her breath. “You’re meaner than you let on, aren’t you?”

“Excuse me?” I said incredulously. Twilight ignored me.

“You know Aloe,” she paused to kiss me, before looking at me seriously. “You haven’t given me a price.”

I poked her in the side and she squirmed back again, biting her lip and gripping my forearms roughly. “Well, you’ve stolen quite a few of them, so how much do you think my kisses are worth, Miss Sparkle?”

Twilight actually stopped moving and looked like she was thinking about it, and I realized it might have been bad to joke about money. “Consider it complementary, Twilight, so long as you are planning to return.”

“Mhm,” she nodded, smiling in agreement before dropping to lie on me again. “Oh, I’ll be back, Aloe. You can charge whatever you want, I'll be back.” She went silent for a moment, before something made her breath catch and she lifted her head again. "Although, I'm a girl on a budget, so the cheaper you make it..."

The more we can do it. Maybe she does have a sense of humor about money. I, on the other hand, am screwed.

After a minute she was breathing steadily again. The gel was now a sticky film holding us weakly together, but there was plenty more in my dish. “Shall we continue, Miss Sparkle?”

Her eyes shot open in surprise. “Today? There’s more?” I nodded. I could feel her heartbeat quicken, but she shook her head anyways and reluctantly peeled herself away. “Save your other tricks for next time, I think I’ve already had enough to distract me for at least a week.”

“As you say,” I said, shrugging. Though I’m pretty sure this will be distracting me for longer than that.

Cleaning off the gel is fun. The water reactivates it and you get a minute or two of hyper-slipperiness again, and since Twilight had become more playful since we started I could have a bit of playtime with her in the shower. Nothing overtly sexual, a little game of ‘who can hold who without being held herself’ emerged and we had a good time slipping away from each other while trying to find a suitable hold. She kissed me a little more, and while I played along at first—even pinning her and showing her how it’s really done when your partner isn’t enchanting your tongue—I eventually distanced myself and slipped us both back into our roles. By the time she was scrubbed down and her hair was drying, we were back at square one. I towelled her off and got her dressed, then led her to the door in a robe. She scheduled her next few appointments on the spot and paid in advance once we decided on a price.

There was one thing I wanted to ask her before she left. “You remember your exercises, yes Miss Sparkle?”

“Yes Aloe,” she nodded, lifting a hand to her neck in exasperation. “I remember my exercises. Mostly, I think.”

“You should do them more often.” I know I sound like everybody’s mother when I say this kind of thing, but they really are good for you. “Aside from improving your posture and flexibility, they will increase your stamina as well. They won't tire as quickly, you see.”

She blushed fiercely. Looking suitably ridiculous with her red face and frizzy hair, I gave her a kiss on the cheek and shoved her out the door. Now to clean up our mess.

The towels I tossed on the edge of the empty bathtub. I hoped the mattress would fit in the shower, it would be infinitely easier to spray down and—

“Cleaning up?” Lotus asked.

I nearly jumped out of my skin. I must not have closed the door all the way.

“I’ll help,” she offered before I could respond.

“Oh, thank you. You don’t have to, though.”

Despite her offer, or maybe because of my rebuttal, she made no move to do anything. She just stood there staring at me, a towel in hand, before latching the door behind her. “I’m next, Aloe, but… do you think she would be up for us both?”

I blinked. “Difficult to say,” but I really hope so.

Lotus nodded at the dish, smiling gently. “You made too much.”

“Yeah, I—”

“Haven’t done it in a while?” She said. I shrugged. Lotus eyed the robe I was wearing. “What do you have under that?”

I looked down, and back up. My sister had the bowl in one hand and was playing with its contents in the other. “Lotus?”

“You had fun today, sister. It was very good, yes?”

Oh, I did, and it was. “Lotus?”

“Yes Aloe?”

I chose my words with care. “I made too much gel.”

“I know.” She said, nodding slowly and taking everything in. “And you left the mattress, and you didn’t get dressed, and you have far too many towels.” Lotus sucked some air through her teeth disapprovingly, shaking her head. “How long would you have waited?”

I swept my twisted hair over my shoulder. “If you want to go next, you should practice. I was sloppy today.”

“You were?” She asked, walking over to me and undoing the belt of my robe, pretending to take it off. Then she suddenly yanked the cord tight and looked at me with a bit of sibling annoyance. “’Tell me your plans, Aloe.’ How many times have I said that?”

I let a squeak escape at being trapped by my twin, but merely shrugged at her question.

“Well,” she continued softly, loosening her grip on my belt and tugging me towards her. “Thank you for thinking of me.”

So you made it through. Thanks for giving me a chance on this, dear reader. Why not let me know how it was?

I don’t think any more will be as long as this. Believe it or not I even planned for it to be longer... What was I thinking? Like I said, things just got out of hand.

Dash is next, maybe. Though I dunno…

(EDIT January 28: proofread everything again for good measure, here's an update on things if you're interested.)