Page 8 of Sideline Play

“And?”

“And what?”

Chuckling as she folds a blanket on the massage table leaving me to wonder when she stood up, Scarlet sweetly clues me in.

“We were asking if it would be alright if Jennings leaves to close out some of his paperwork?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Scarlet is going to be doing your massage. We wanted to know if you wanted a…”

“A chaperone?” I supply. “Is this for my benefit or hers?”

“Both, technically,” she answers. “With the location of your injury, at a minimum you’ll have to remove your pants and hike up the leg of your underwear while lowering the waistband. I’ll keep a blanket in place to preserve your modesty, but massaging the groin can be intrusive. So if you want Jennings to stay or Warner to come in, I would–”

“Areyoucomfortable?” I interrupt.

I already know my own issues that could arise from her touch, and not a single one of them has to do with discomfort. At least not in the way she’s concerned about.

Shrugging as she opens up one of the medicinal creams and smells it, she dismisses, “Yeah, I had to do a lot of these to get certified and have done it for my brother and Reeves on occasion as well. You won’t be any different. My priority is you and whatever is going to make you the most comfortable and relaxed.”

Not getting lumped in with Roman would be an excellent start. Here I am fantasizing about having her gag on my dick and she just compared having her hands mere inches from said dick to touching her brother. Clinical, unaffected, detached. All things I most certainly will not be experiencing regardless of where and how her small hands touch me.

“Yeah, if you’re cool with it, I don’t care. You’re just doing your job, right?” I snap like a surly asshole, instantly regretting it as her perky countenance falters. Grasping at the nearest excuse before she can wilt further, I say, “Sorry, Scar. I think the pain in my hip and lack of sleep are starting to get to me. I shouldn’t have answered like that.”

“It’s okay,” she assures me. “I’ll give your hip and immediate surrounding muscle groups a recovery massage but if you want, I can use aromatherapy techniques everywhere else. It’ll maybe help you relax and lull you into a nap on the table.”

“I seriously doubt I’ll be able to fall asleep.”

“You’d be surprised. Tons of people fall asleep, snoring and all, when on a massage table.”

“Then if you two are all set, I’ll be on my way. Scarlet, you know my extension if you need anything. Remington, I’ll see you before the sun tomorrow morning.”

“See you tomorrow, Jennings,” Scarlet waves before focusing fully on me. “I’m going to step out while you get undressed. If you could slip under the flat sheet and lay on your back, the heating pad should be warmed up by now so you won’t be chilledwaiting for me to start. I’ll be back in a couple minutes and knock before entering.”

As she leaves the room, she stops at a digital pad next to the light switches and fusses with the settings, dimming the room so it becomes basked in a soft glow, the sound of gentle rain piping in from somewhere. Then with a smile and a little flounce out the door before quietly sealing it, she’s gone and I’m left to panic because fucking hell, a thin sheet and my boxers are not enough of a barrier to guard her from seeing the semi I’m already beginning to sport.

“No Skip, I swear. I didn’t mean to traumatize your daughter by popping a fucking boner on her massage table. Honest!” I deadpan. “Yeah, because that’s believable.”

Groaning, I take off my hat and strip out of my t-shirt and shorts, glaring down at my cock as I get on the table.

“Remember, she compared you to her brother. So behave.”

I’m only laying there for a minute or two, my dick for once following my command and settling down, before I hear Scarlet’s soft knock.

“All good,” I call, her head peeking in before her body as she replies, “Excellent.”

Coming in the rest of the way and pulling an additional cart with her, I take notice that she’s no longer wearing her training jacket from earlier. In its place is a tank top that molds to the soft curves of her body and cuts low enough to provide an excellent view of her pert breasts, the damn things proudly on display like her top is a shelf designed for optimal viewing. And as she pulls the tray up beside me, I know I’m well and truly fucked, because she bends at the waist to putter about with something on the lower level, leaving her heart shaped ass right in my line of sight.

Slowly exhaling as I tear my eyes away and force my gaze up to the ceiling, I attempt to banish my currently unwelcomethoughts questioning how sturdy this damn table is and ask, “So, how do we do this?”

“Perfect,” she announces before standing up and apologizing, “Sorry, I want to set the mood for you.”

“Come again?” I croak, nearly swallowing my tongue.

“For your aromatherapy. Your sports massage will be much deeper and possibly a bit uncomfortable, but you’ve had plenty of these so you know that. Anyway, the aromatherapy massage I’ll give you after will be much more gentle. The practice’s ultimate purpose is to help you relax, ease tension, and calm your mind so that you can sleep. It’ll loosen your muscles up, of course, but it’s all executed with a higher purpose of releasing your mind and body of stress. Even now, you look as rigid as a board on the table. Are you sure you don’t need something for the pain?”

“No, Scar. I’m good,” I say, unable to stop myself from wrapping my fingers around hers as she comes to pull the top blanket back.

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