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The persistent chime of a metal fork hitting the wide bowl of a wineglass brought the crowd’s volume to a harsh collective whisper, then gradual silence. Phasma Scyre, an elegant standout among dark suits and dresses in her form-fitting red gown, addressed the company party. “Get out your tickets,” she called. “We’re about to hold the prize drawings.”
Meh. Armitage Hux remained at his table in the far back corner of the hotel ballroom and sipped his Old Fashioned. The ticket stubs given to him upon entry to the party lay scattered on the white tablecloth, untouched. He had half a mind to let one of his co-workers claim them. He hated these outings, and socializing in general. He just wanted to go home, slip out his clothes and into bed.
Wasn’t it enough that the higher-ups at First Order, Ltd. imposed mandatory attendance to this end-of-fiscal-year fete? Sod the prizes; the majority of them weren’t worth the hype. Gift cards for services he’d never use, and free dinners at restaurants he’d likely patronize once because they were too far from home. Anything he won ended up in Phasma’s purse anyway, so if a ticket of his won he’d announce it as hers.
“You’re not checking your numbers,” Dopheld told him after Phasma called out the first winning ticket. His co-worker from the marketing department dropped himself in an adjacent chair and browsed the stubs littered amongst the used dessert plates.
Hux sipped his drink again. “I can’t get excited about a frozen yogurt coupon, I’m sorry.”
“It’s ten frozen yogurt coupons, and you already get endless toppings. It freezes well, too. I could live on it for a week.” Dopheld’s smile fell as he scanned the stubs, a true tell that this prize eluded them.
“Doph, surely they pay you better than that.”
Dopheld smiled at Hux. “They do. I’m just stingy,” he said, and scowled when Rae Sloane approached Phasma with her winning stub. He kept up the expression for several more drawings, until luck finally bestowed upon him a sizable movie theater gift card everybody seemed to covet.
“Twenty-five dollars?” Hux eyed the denomination stamped on the card. “That won’t go very far, unless you smuggle in your own Twizzlers.”
“Way ahead of you,” Dopheld said, but Phasma had drowned out the response by loudly repeating the winning number for the subsequent prize.
“Come on! Ticket ending in six-two-three.” She waved a long white envelope in the air. “You have five seconds or else I’m keeping this one.” Multiple groans followed as people exaggerated their frustration. Hux moved in for one last sip of his cocktail around the enormous ice sphere banging in his glass, but Dopheld tugging his sleeve prevented it.
“Six-two-three, that’s you,” Dopheld told him, and pulled Hux’s arm high to signal Phasma. “Over here!” Hux, mortified by the attention, jerked free of his co-worker’s grasp.
He straightened that cuff and remained in his seat. “Why is everybody losing their shit over a silly raffle prize?”
“Because it’s the final prize of the evening, and the biggest one,” Phasma said as she dropped the envelope in front of him. No hints, either, and Phasma taking her chair across from Hux’s doubled his audience. He barely cared at this point, yet unfolded the flap and pulled out the embossed cardstock.
This card entitles the bearer to one free 60-minute deep tissue massage at Millennium Massage and Spa (retail value: $75). No expiration date. Not redeemable for cash value.
“Oh.” By all accounts, this prize was the most valuable of all the ones given out this evening. Hux was aware the company’s social committee reached out to friends with connections for prize procurement, yet he couldn’t guess who had the in with a masseuse. A nice gift to win, but the idea of a stranger kneading his bare flesh inspired shivers.
He stuffed the card back into its envelope and slid it toward Phasma. “Happy early Christmas,” he said.
“Uh-uh.” Phasma slid it back. “You won fair and square.”
“Not two minutes ago you threatened to take this for yourself.” Slide. “Nothing on the card says it’s not non-transferable, and my name isn’t even on it. You love spa things. Have at it.”
“While a massage day sounds lovely, I already have a guy. Lovely man. Swedish.” Slide back. “Besides, a deep tissue rub might do you some good. Help you relax, lighten you up a bit.”
Hux pushed the envelope forward again, but Phasma met him on the table with her fingertips. Together they bent the gift certificate until it popped out of their reverse tug of war and nearly landed on the lighted tea candles in the centerpiece. Hux snatched the envelope before it caught on fire.
“I am perfectly happy!” he shouted. “Why would you think otherwise?”
Around them, the white noise faded into silence. Conversations stopped. Forks ceased scraping frosting from plates. All heads turned in the direction of Hux’s table, and even Dopheld scooted back his chair to presumably avoid a direct hit of Hux’s ire.
Sinking back in his chair, Hux tucked the envelope into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and sighed. “Perhaps it’s foolish to turn away such a valuable prize,” he said. “I understand massages are good for relieving the body of certain toxins as well.”
“That’s the spirit.” Phasma toasted him with her near-empty wine glass. “Exorcise those demons. I guarantee you’ll come away feeling like a new man.”
Hux arched his eyebrow. “How would you know if you’ve never patronized this particular spa?”
“Never said I haven’t, just that I have a guy,” Phasma said. “Mine happened to leave Millennium to start up his own place and I moved with him. It’s like with your Esthetician or hairstylist; once you find somebody who gets your rhythm, you stick with them.” She leaned forward, giving Hux and Dopheld a nice view. “You, sir, are in desperate need of tuning.”
Oh, stars. “This is one of those kinds of spas, is it?” Happy endings interrupted by undercover raids. No, thank you. Phasma laughed when he reached for the envelope burning against his breast.
“Like we’d give something like that away at an office party. Hux, Millennium is legit. Therapeutic massages, and you can leave your knickers on if you’re that worried. Make the appointment and get your damn freebie. Ask for Kylo, he’s good,” Phasma said, and stood to leave.
Hux considered his prize. Around them, a few people had murmured about his good fortune in receiving it. He ought to feel happier to save on an expensive service, but it wasn’t like he sought out such luxuries. Maybe he wasn’t a hundred percent happy about his current state, but he had a good job and a nice apartment. His cat provided companionship better than most humans in his orbit. He doubted a massage offered opportunities for improvement.
Movies, on the other hand, he enjoyed. Hux got out the envelope and turned to Dopheld. “Trade?” he asked. “Mine’s worth more.”
“Is it?” Smiling, Dopheld rounded the table and bent his arm toward Phasma, who linked hers. “One hour on a table getting manhandled by a stranger, or two hours in the dark with a gorgeous blonde. Tough choice.”
“He’ll make you pay for the concessions, you know,” Hux called to their backs as they left the party.
Phasma didn’t turn back. “Ask for Kylo,” she said. “You won’t regret it.”
~*~
Two weeks after the party, the gift certificate remained pinned to Hux’s refrigerator with a magnet shaped to resemble his orange tabby, Millicent. When Phasma arrived that morning for their Saturday ritual of the gym followed by smoothies, she ripped it away and shoved it in his face.
“Why haven’t you used this yet?”
Hux was in the midst of adjusting his home security settings on his phone when he reeled backward. He gripped the nearest shelf for balance, shocked by his friend’s behavior. “I’ve been busy,” he said. “It’s the end of the fiscal quarter. You know what that’s like.”
“I know it doesn’t take five minutes to reserve a massage on a website.”
“The gift certificate doesn’t expire,” Hux said, exhausted by the pressure to relax. “I’ll use it when I use it.” In truth, he’d have been content to let the thing gather dust, and make up a story for Phasma in the event she asked about his experience. No such luck now.
Frowning, Phasma slapped the ticket back on the fridge door. “You better. It’s wasted money otherwise. In fact…” Phasma snatched Hux’s phone from his hands. “How about we set it up for today, after our workout?”
“Hey!” Hux clawed for his phone but Phasma turned her back and hip-checked him out of his galley kitchen into the hallway. “I may have plans later in the day, you realize?”
Phasma tap tap tapped on his phone screen. “Like what, streaming and chill with the boyfriend?” Boom. Right in the gut. Hux’s last relationship ended years ago.
“It’s Saturday, Phas. The spa is probably booked,” Hux said, aware the excuse sounded weak. “I’ll check my calendar for next week against their hours and see if–”
He heard the ding of an incoming text. “Your two o’clock appointment with Kylo is confirmed.” Phasma flashed him a smug grin, surrendering his phone. She slapped him on the shoulder and steered him toward his front door. “Now, let’s go sweat out your pre-massage anxiety.”
For all the good it did him. Hux muddled through his workout, and missed cues when spotting Phasma on some of the weight machines. To her credit, she refrained from throttling him despite the danger his negligence might have caused. Hux tried to focus, but thoughts of what to expect at his massage appointment clouded his mind and mood.
First off, what the hell kind of name was Kylo for a masseuse? It better suited a junkyard pit bull. While Hux hardly considered himself eclectic when it came to home decor, he avoided things like aromatic candles and New Age music. The idea of laying face down in awkward silence, undressed and vulnerable in front of somebody who wasn’t his doctor, made him shudder.
Phasma, perhaps still miffed by that near miss with the barbell, skipped the post-gym smoothie and wished him luck as they parted company. Hux, having showered at the gym, called up directions to Millennium Massage and Spa, surprised to find it located in a more industrial part of town in a strip mall adjacent to Solo’s Garage and the Knights of Ren Tattoo Studio.
Do they massage truckers and mechanics? In the distance a jackhammer let loose with a teeth-shattering noise. Who could relax here? No wonder Phasma preferred her Swede.
Hux shifted his car into gear, intent on pulling out past the storefront and onto the main road, when Phasma’s voice in his head guided him to park. Until he redeemed this blasted raffle prize, his friend wouldn’t give him a moment’s peace, in person or imaginary.
The spa’s reception area lacked natural lighting, and more resembled an insurance office than a studio for relaxation. Hux panned his gaze around the dark wood paneling on the walls, the brown and green upholstered couch by the door, and the chipped veneer of the unoccupied desk. The worn carpet needed vacuuming, and a calendar served as the only decoration on any of the walls.
Hux examined the design, a Bob Ross-style mountainscape, and noted the print at the bottom. Compliments of Skywalker Insurance Co. Hux thought perhaps it had conveyed with the office, but at least the month was current.
Run , screamed his mind. This setting had the look of a horror movie scene before the jumpscare.
“Hello?” called a voice from the back hallway, and Hux exhaled. Deep, pleasant, even sexy if one considered it. “Be up there in a sec. Sorry to keep you waiting.”
Hux stepped back as a man standing an inch or so above Hux’s six-foot-plus height emerged from the dark. His black t-shirt pulled tight against his chest, showing off his broad shoulders and lean waist. Each of his arms bore black-and-white sleeve tattoos stopping just above his wrists, intricate designs of flowering vines, starships, and fictional villains.
The man caught Hux staring and turned to one side, flexing his arm as he pushed back the sleeve covering Darth Vader’s helmet. “Got these done at the KoR, next door,” he said. “I don’t trust my skin to anybody else. They do amazing work.”
“Indeed.” Hux rather liked the movie franchise himself, but not enough to imprint it for life on his body. He drew his gaze to meet the man’s whiskey brown eyes and plush, full lips. Biker bar pretty, an obvious fantasy for women itching to bang the bad boy type. He seemed out of place, working for a spa, even one that looked so industrial. Hux guessed the tattoo guys weren’t hiring.
“I have a two o’clock massage with Kylo. It said to arrive fifteen minutes early, so here I am,” Hux told him, and gave his name. The tattooed receptionist tapped at the dormant iPad on the desk and called up the appointment, then flashed Hux a smile.
“Punctual, I like that. We ask people to come early to fill out the questionnaire and waivers,” he said. “It’s a standard procedure, for your safety and ours. If you have any allergies or medical conditions that might become exacerbated during your treatment, it’s best to know beforehand.”
Made sense, Hux conceded. He accepted the mobile pad, which had the digital forms ready for him. Hux realized, too, once he filled this out he’d end up in the spa’s system. They’d have his contact information and probably bombard him with emails. There better be an opt-out for that. “And after this, I’ll meet Kylo?”
“You’ve already met him.”
Hux’s face heated. Kylo, the tattoo model hunk in the painted-on tee… yes, those were black Doc Maartens peeking out from the cuffs of his jeans… who would soon have his bear claw hands all over Hux’s bare flesh. Hux nearly dropped the pad but Kylo dipped forward and captured it before it hit the desk.
“You okay?” Kylo asked. “You went all pale there. At least, paler than when you walked in.”
“Sorry. I assumed you worked reception.” Hux turned his attention to the pad and hastily checked the appropriate boxes. He was grateful for the distraction, though the occasional glance through his lashes revealed a rather amused masseuse looking at him. “I take it this is a small operation?”
“In size and staff, yes. We are a two-man operation, myself and my cousin Matt,” Kylo said, casting a glance down the hallway. “The studio may look a bit unorthodox compared to other spas in town, but it’s clean and all the equipment is up-to-date. We have an A rating with the Department of Health, and Matt and I are both state-certified.” He took back the pad with the completed form with a nod. “The hope is, once we build up a nice clientele, to move to a better location and hire an officer manager. Somebody who handles the marketing as well as the appointments.”
“Indeed.” Hux guessed Kylo was only too happy to donate a free rubdown to the party raffle. Phasma’s announcement of the prize gave the spa some publicity, anyway. “Well, social media is an inexpensive option, and effective if the right person takes control of it.”
Kylo perused Hux’s questionnaire, rolling his lower lip between his teeth. A rather good look on him, one that affected Hux in multiple places. “I need all the help I can get. Not where the actual massage is concerned, of course,” he added quickly with a laugh. “Okay, Mr. Hux, your profile looks pretty straightforward and I have no questions for you. Anything you want to know before we get started?”
“Actually, yes.” He twisted around, checking the front windows for incoming clients. Back to Kylo, “Will I have to completely undress for this?” He had a clean pair of briefs following the workout, about the same coverage as competition swimwear.
“I see here it’s your first time anywhere for a massage.” Kylo slipped the pad into a drawer. “Come on back and you’ll see how we’re set up. We are all about the client’s comfort here.”
It wasn’t an answer, more of an invitation to one, but Hux followed Kylo down the hall to an open room emitting a soft, hued light. The scent of something cool and clean caught Hux’s senses as he approached. A proper description escaped him; perhaps clean itself worked best. Hux figured it went back to all the questions about allergies. He liked that Kylo hadn’t immediately bombarded him with pungent incense.
The room itself took Hux by surprise, so much that Kylo remarked on it when he invited Hux further inside. “It looks so different from your reception area,” he told the masseuse. To say nothing of the man in charge himself. Kylo with his dark clothing and tats looked more in place in a room filled with heavy metal posters and discarded auto parts taking up space in the corner. There instead, Hux saw one table draped with a white cloth, holding a rock salt lamp, a small seated Buddha statue, and a glass vase holding a cluster of bamboo stalks.
“Are those real?” Hux asked.
“Yes.” Kylo gestured to the plant. “There are six. It’s a feng shui thing Matt suggested. Six is a lucky number for business success. I have that here to help with business.” He shrugged. “I figured it couldn’t hurt , anyway.”
“I have to confess, given how the front of the place looked, it’s unexpected. Pleasant, though.”
“You know what they say about looks, Mr. Hux,” Kylo said, drawing Hux’s attention. The man spoke of himself, rather than their serene environment. Kylo patted the massage table, on which sat two fresh, folded towels. “I’ll leave you alone to undress. You may strip completely or keep your underwear, but I’ll ask you to remove your socks because I do some reflexology during the session. Lie on your stomach with one towel lengthwise over your bottom, and your arms at your sides.”
He leaned closer to Hux on his way out the door. Intentionally, or perhaps by accident. Hux was too focused on the room to think about it. “Be back soon.”
The door snicked shut behind Kylo, and the room seemed to expand in his absence. The masseuse was quite the personality, Hux decided. He already missed the man and his uniquely handsome face, especially the way his dimples popped when he smiled at Hux.
He then smiled to himself, grateful Phasma had taken the initiative to push him into this appointment. It was a service, however, Hux reminded himself as he undressed. Not a date, or a solicitation. With each layer of clothing he removed and folded on the chair in the folder, he sensed a muscle in his body tighten. Anxiety took control, giving Kylo the opportunity to work off the value of that gift certificate.
Down to his briefs, Hux unfolded the towel to assume the position on the table when he stopped. This was a respectable establishment, yes, the location notwithstanding. Kylo, while unusually attired for a massage therapist, came off as professional and genuine. Hux had to admit that speaking with him helped.
Why not go commando, and put himself entirely in Kylo’s hands? It’s a massage, not an incall. With that reminder ringing in his head, Hux shed the one obstacle separating his skin from the fluffy spa towel. When Kylo rapped on the door, the soft terry cloth was draped over Hux’s bare bottom as instructed.
Flat on his stomach, Hux faced away from the door and rested his right cheek on the cushioned massage table. He pressed his legs together and pointed his toes straight, arching his feet. He heard Kylo’s entrance but saw nothing until the man paused at the head of the table. Hux caught a glimpse of the man’s new outfit, loose and white and resembling surgical scrubs. The short sleeves brought out the color and intricate details of his tat sleeves.
Kylo gave no explanation for the change, leaving Hux to assume these clothes allowed the man greater mobility for his job. Kylo was holding a wooden, hinged box which he opened to reveal half a dozen vials. “These are essential oils I mix into the massage lotions I use, which are unscented,” he said. “Some clients prefer a specific scent, but you are under no obligation to have any of them included. Some have specific properties, if you’re interested in hearing about them.”
Hux figured lavender was for calming; as for the rest, he wasn’t keen on smelling like a botanical garden or health food shop. “Unscented is fine,” he said. “I’m not big on perfumes.” Kylo accepted the answer, and moved to a small station to purify his hands. Hux appreciated the visual, clearly meant to build trust.
“Music?” Kylo offered, and ran down a list of satellite channels after Hux consented. They settled on something with a New Age vibe, mellow horns and rhythmic synth pads. Kylo dimmed the lights and, after oiling up his hands, began the massage.
He stood in front of Hux, unmoving for a moment. It was unnerving, watching the gentle sway of Kylo’s hips as he stood in place. Hux rested his chin on the table in order to peer upward, but Kylo asked him to rest his head on his side like before. He sounded like a school teacher, low and soft in admonishing a young student. It worked, however.
After a few seconds, Hux felt Kylo’s fingers touch down on his skin. Kylo pressed his thumbs on the back of Hux’s neck and pushed downward and out toward his shoulders, but not all the way there. He applied some pressure but not enough to cause Hux discomfort. The touch encouraged relaxation, and when Kylo pushed down to the middle of his back Hux began to fuse onto the table pad.
Kylo repeated these strokes twice more, then performed a similar movement down Hux’s back on either side of his spine, left then right and twice more again.
Well, this isn’t so bad. Perhaps he ought to budget in a massage once a month to counteract his long hours at work in front of– kriff!
“Whoa, easy there.” Kylo let out a deep laugh when Hux flopped like a landed fish on the table. “I hit a tight spot there.”
“To say the least,” Hux said. The spot just below his neck where Kylo pushed deep for a quick circular press ached.
“Your trapezius muscles are tight. I take it you work at a desk?”
Hux huffed. “Most people do.”
“Wouldn’t hurt to engage in a bit of stretching throughout the day to prevent the stiffness,” Kylo said, matter-of-factly. “These are your rhomboids , which are also solid. Let’s see if we can…”
Kylo’s words faded as he gave full attention to boring his thumbs into Hux’s back. Push, rotate, slide. Push, rotate, slide. Kylo hit different points along Hux’s back, and while the initial contact encouraged Hux to cry out in discomfort he found the second and third rounds weren’t so bad. The slick on Kylo’s hands allowed him to glide along the skin, and Hux noted he left trails of heat behind that lingered.
“How’s that?” Kylo asked him.
Hux swallowed. “Better.” His back was tender, but he didn’t come away feeling mauled or violated. Kylo moved away for a moment to apply more lotion. Hux rolled his shoulders, readying himself for another round when he realized Kylo intended to focus on a different part of his body.
His lower back, Hux thought at first. Kylo surprised him by applying the same moves to his left leg.
“You walk a lot,” Kylo said, walking his thumbs up Hux’s calf.
He nodded. “Ten thousand steps a day, without fail,” he said. “Bit of bad heart history in my family. It’s the least I can do to counter it.”
“You could stand to drink more water as well.”
“Who says I don’t?” Hux asked, affronted.
Kylo executed a two-handed rub up the calf. He twined his fingers together for this move. “You,” he said. “One thing a massage does is release toxins. I can smell the uric acid coming off you. However much you drink in a day isn’t enough. You like your morning coffee, I take it?”
Before he answered, Hux tilted his face toward his shoulder and sniffed. He detected only the same scents of the room, namely the ghosts of oils used on Kylo’s other clients. Was uric acid supposed to smell like stale piss, or body odor? Hux, if anything, took his grooming habits seriously. Just for this appointment, he spent more time in the gym showers than normal, determined not to offend Kylo’s olfactory senses.
“Are you part bloodhound?” Hux then cringed at his gut reaction. “I’m sorry,” he said immediately afterward. “I hadn’t expected such an assessment.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not. I obviously need to drink more water,” Hux said. Also, Kylo had the advantage, with him lying vulnerable and barely towel-clad on a massage table.
Kylo laughed, presumably to ease Hux’s nerves, before starting on the other leg. “I got personal, but I’m only trying to help. Renal health is as important as your cardio,” he said. “Drinking water is probably the easiest thing a person can do to stay healthy. Get yourself one of those notched bottles, fill it and drain it daily. When your urine is clear, you’re gold.”
“Right. Clear piss is gold. Gold piss is… not.”
“I’m sure there’s a better rhyme, but that works.”
They fell into a companionable silence. Hux closed his eyes and surrendered his body to the rest of the massage. Silently, he thanked Phasma for pushing the appointment forward, and praised his good fortune in winning the gift certificate over the other raffle prizes. This beat two hours in a cramped movie theater seat.
“Almost done,” Kylo said, and Hux checked his fit watch. Indeed, the allotted time for the rubdown was close to the end. Quickest hour of his life, and definitely the most relaxing. He said as much.
“Really,” he added, “I’m glad I came. Had I not won the gift cert, I doubt I’d have– oh, my.”
To hell with massage protocol. Hux propped himself on his elbows and craned around to see for himself how Kylo manipulated his left foot. If the masseuse was put off by Hux’s appraisal of his technique, it wasn’t evident in his expression.
Kylo flicked him a wide grin. “I told you about the reflexology,” he said, digging his knuckle into Hux’s arch. “Call it a perk, even though you’re technically not paying for this. I have a background in exercise physiology, and I’ve helped athletes with orthotics. Fitting the right shoes, blister prevention and treatment. That kind of jazz.”
Important work, of course. Those in sports relied on healthy feet for agility and speed. Hux rested again and let Kylo continue his magic. He wasn’t a foot fetishist himself, but thought perhaps Kylo enjoyed this part of the massage over the rest. The lotion slicked off from Kylo’s hands softened the tough skin on his heels, and when Kylo slipped between his toes Hux thought he might launch off the table and into Heaven.
Damn. The tingle shot all the way up his leg into his groin. All through the massage, Hux had lain soft as gelatin. Now he had to contend with hiding an erection, all from a simple foot rub. Thanks to Kylo, he learned he had an erogenous zone.
As quickly as the reflexology began, however, it ended. Kylo gave Hux’s feet one final pat and a quick rubdown with a towel. “So you don’t slip when you stand up,” Kylo explained. Hux felt his face heat up at the thought of pratfalling, naked, in the massage room.
“Of course. I appreciate it.” He was in the process of turning onto his back, all the while shifting the towel to keep his semi-hard cock covered, when Kylo bent into a mini fridge.
“Before you get up,” Kylo said, handing Hux a bottled water, “take a moment for yourself and hydrate. Let the massage work its residual magic. Relax a bit, take as much time as you need. I’ll meet you out front when you’re ready to check out.”
Hux thanked him, but Kylo was halfway out the door and quietly shutting it. He caught a sliver of Kylo’s smile through the crack just before the door completely closed. On impulse, he checked his body to ensure no visible evidence of his “satisfaction” with Kylo’s manipulation of his body.
He lay back, careful as he tipped the open neck of the bottle toward his lips. Well, what more did you expect? The gift certificate entitled him to a free massage, which he received. Hux knew he ought to come away from the experience relaxed and limber. Instead, disappointment washed over him. A ridiculous thought, too, considering he was wary of inappropriate behavior and none happened.
Why not? Did Kylo not find him attractive? Interesting? Why am I fixated on this? Hux sat up and shook his head, laughing quietly. “I am so full of myself,” he said at low volume, in case sound traveled through the walls. Though he wasn’t thirsty, he polished off the small bottle and tossed it in the nearby bin before dressing. This way, he’d avoid a lecture or stern look from Kylo for disobeying.
As promised, Kylo waited for him at the reception desk when he emerged from the hallway. He tapped away on his digital pad, gaze focused on his task. “How are we feeling?” He sounded like a nurse visiting a post-op patient.
“Very well, thanks.” Indeed, the massage had altered Hux’s mindset as well as his comfort. The aged lobby appeared less dreary, and he walked with a spring in his step that didn’t exist this morning. When Kylo met his gaze and smiled, his pulse quickened.
“I’ve comped the massage,” Kylo said, pointing it out on the invoice, “but if you wish to leave a tip you can fill out this box and use the attachment.” He tapped the plugged-in card swiper. “There’s also a brief survey, which I’d appreciate you filling out, and a space to leave an email for specials and alerts.”
“Thank you. I would prefer to tip in cash, if you’re okay with that.”
Kylo rocked on his heels and nodded. “I never say no to money.” He accepted the tenner without unfolding it and shoved it in his pocket. “The first email you’ll receive is part of a drip campaign, so you know,” he added when Hux finished the brief survey. “It covers our membership tier, which isn’t much right now but I think they’re reasonably priced. As we expand we’ll offer more services and benefits. We also appreciate reviews on Yelp and Google, anywhere else, too.”
“I’ll do that.” If he remembered. “I’ll hang on a membership for now, though. I’d have to sort out my schedule…” Stop talking, Hux. He backed off a step as he rattled off into silence. Truly, it wasn’t this man’s business why he chose not to get sucked into a recurring payment.
“That’s fair,” Kylo said. “Glad you enjoyed your massage. Think of us if you ever want another one.”
Hux touched the door knob now. Slowest exit from a business ever. “I will. Thanks again for honoring the gift certificate. Enjoy the tip.” He cringed at the words, more so when Kylo’s expression hinted at wanting to enjoy a different kind of tip.
Open the door, Hux. Walk outside. Go home.
He swore he heard laughter when the door shut behind him.
~*~
“How was it?”
“Nice,” Armitage said.
Phasma removed the plastic lid from her smoothie cup and stabbed the thick slush with her straw, then stirred. “Nice? That’s all you have to say about it? I can think of more appropriate adjectives for an hour-long rubdown.”
“It was a massage, not a date,” Armitage said. Two days had passed since the appointment, and he and Phasma took their lunch hour together at the cafe on the ground floor of their office building. The effects of Kylo’s handiwork, so to speak, lingered in Hux’s upper back muscles. He’d become conscious of himself. He drank more water, as suggested, and when Phasma arrived at his desk to claim him for the break she remarked on his posture. Look at you, sitting at attention.
What do you mean, stiff?
No. You’re the perfect model of office efficiency.
Hux wasn’t aware he’d stopped slouching. Even now, he sat properly on his side of the booth, feet flat on the floor. He felt good. The power of suggestion.
“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Phas told him. She sat bent over her tall cup, inspecting her smoothie. “I’m like that after a massage, too. I try to hold onto that sense of invincibility as long as possible, until the weight of the world crushes me once again and I make another appointment.”
“How long does it normally take?” Hux asked.
“With this job, I’m lucky to make it through the month.”
He laughed along with her, despite a knot tightening in his chest. Kylo had stayed on his mind and under his skin since leaving the Millennium Spa. If he sat still, he could call up the memory of Kylo’s large hands caressing his shoulders and lower back, and hear the gentle roar of the man’s breath over his own thoughts. Hux hadn’t expected a simple massage to affect him like this; asking Phasma about the wait time between return appointments was more for his benefit than curiosity. He wanted to go back.
Hell, right at this moment he could smell the man. Hux set down the last bite of his chicken salad wrap and closed his eyes. Inhaling deeply, he filled his body with the scent of shea butter and bamboo, much like what he detected from–
“Kylo! Hi.”
Hux’s heart stuttered. He saw the dark behind his eyelids deepen, and when he opened his eyes Kylo stood before him. Back in his tight jeans and Docs, the masseuse wore a black tee emblazoned with the Pink Floyd prism logo. He gripped a curled up paper bag in one hand, a to-go order.
“How are you?” he asked Phasma. “We miss taking care of you at the spa. Matt especially.” He grinned and flicked his gaze at Hux, adding, “Matt’s been crushing on her for a while, but don’t let her hear it.”
Phasma smacked Kylo’s arm. “Cute. I ought to make an appointment. My Swede’s going on hiatus soon to visit family. Speaking of…” She rose from the booth, collecting her empties for the trash. “I’m snagging that last Danish to go before somebody else grabs it.”
“Danishes aren’t Swedish. They’re Danish,” Hux said.
“They’re neighbors. Same difference,” Phasma called over her shoulder.
“What?” Utter nonsense. Hux assumed Kylo would use the moment to exit the conversation, but he turned his attention back to Hux, and claimed her seat.
Kylo panned his gaze across Hux’s shoulders and down his arms. “How about yourself?”
“Still riding the high, as it were.” Hux reached for his water bottle and raised it. “Hydrating.”
“Good, good.” Kylo twined his fingers, and eyed the remains of Hux’s lunch. Perhaps he had commentary about Hux’s eating habits, being a quasi-health expert. What he said next, though different, wasn’t surprising.
“So you’re aware, we take appointments until seven daily. Our schedules are as flexible as the people who walk out– well, you know what I mean.” Kylo laughed. “Anyway, Tuesdays are slow, if you’re ever interested in a return visit.”
To Hux, it sounded like an invitation. Come for a sixty-minute service, and Kylo might extend the rubdown at no extra cost? “Tempting,” he said. “Why Tuesdays? I’d think people would want to come to get their horrible Mondays massaged out of them.”
Kylo shrugged. “I guess people prefer to come later, prep for the weekend.”
“Ah.” How long did it take for Phasma to buy a lousy pastry? They were due back at work soon. “I will keep that in mind, thanks. Though, this Tuesday seems a bit soon,” he said, and finished his water. He searched for a point of focus, starting with Kylo’s tat sleeves. Stormtrooper and Sith helmets stared back at him. Kylo flexed his arm, and Hux swore one of them winked.
“I read your spa’s introductory email,” he added, and Kylo leaned closer as though to hear better. “I have to say the membership sounds like a good deal. I’m sorry I passed on it.”
Kylo widened his eyes. “Really? Well, it’s not like it was a one-time offer. Join the spa whenever you wish. Sooner the better, I think, since membership prices are a bit lower than walk-ins. However,” he said, matching Hux’s straight posture, “there are ways to receive the free occasional massage.”
“How? Like, book nine appointments and the tenth is free?”
Kylo shook his head. “I mean, say you were to go out on a date with a massage therapist, and he obliged with a massage.” His voice trailed off, hinting at possibilities. Hux had to admit, the puppy-eyed look accompanying the scenario tugged at his heart.
He relaxed his shoulders, and saw Kylo copied him. “Sounds lovely,” he said. “Would this be some sort of foreplay, or a thoughtful method of thanks after dinner and a movie, or…” Or maybe just say yes, you idiot, Hux told himself. The man was asking him out, albeit indirectly.
“Whatever you want it to be.” Kylo turned in his seat as Phasma slowly approached. “The ‘boyfriend discount’ is not necessarily a limited time offer, but it is exclusive. So, if you’d–”
“You’re open until seven tonight?” Hux cut in.
Kylo smiled. “I am. I have a six o’clock.”
Hux left a cash tip on the table for the busboy. “Then I can pick you up at seven-thirty, unless you need more time to close up shop.”
Seven-thirty was fine, Kylo said, and they finalized plans for a data right as Phasma appeared with her to-go bag. Her arched eyebrow, aimed at Hux, demanded details at a later time, but she claimed an imminent conference call required her presence at work before Hux. “Kylo, if you’ll walk me to the door,” she said, tugging Kylo out of the booth. “Hux, see you soon.”
“Of course.” Much as Phasma loved to gossip, he hoped to get out of the office in time to make the date.
~*~
“So, a date?”
“A date,” Kylo said.
“Wear something nice.”
“I’ll swing by my apartment on the way back to the spa.”
Phasma fished in her purse for her work ID. “I was right all along,” she said, “arranging for Hux to win that gift certificate. Didn’t I say he’d be perfect for you?”
Now standing on the other side of the glass doors, in the lobby of the office building, Kylo glanced at Hux tossing out his trash. “You said he was cute. You weren’t lying,” he said. “Stiff, too. You wouldn’t believe the deep rubbing it took to loosen him up.” Kylo flexed his hands. “Give me another hour with him, and I’ll–”
“Hold that thought.” Phasma put her finger to his lips. “I actually have to be back at my desk. I want all the filthy details afterward, okay?”
Kylo laughed, kissing her hand before she withdrew it. Initially, he’d received her offer to fix him up with her co-worker with reluctance. An uptight three-piece suit hardly sounded his type. Seeing Hux in person, then in little more than a spa towel, changed his whole perception of arranged meet-cutes. He looked forward to tonight, and discovering more about the man who occupied his thoughts of late.
“Sure,” he said to Phasma, “but wouldn’t you rather hear it from Hux?”
“I intend to. I definitely want the full picture.” Phasma slapped him on the tush and left him staring after her as she walked toward the elevators.