.

>Emotions Rule

      Ira Lav

      IRA LAV

      EMOTIONS RULE

      or

      MAY I FEEL SAID SHE

      Dedicated to the women I’ve known …

      Cover Design Kira Lavrentyeva

      A huge gratitude to Peter Doyle, Therese Kruse, Irene Erdmann, Susan Hunt and Johanne Howard

      © Ira Lav, 2019

      ISBN 978-5-4496-8400-4

      Created with Ridero smart publishing system

      prologue

      As Katya woke up, she felt herself like a shaken bottle of soda that’d just been opened. In fact it was her uncontrollable giggle triggered by her previous night memories. To be precise, her late alfa-gravity class with her coach, the thirty-seven-year old Alexandre. Broad-shouldered, tall, fair-haired young chap with piercing grey eyes and deep confident voice.

      During the class she might have stretched one of her arm muscles. And surely Alexandre felt he ought to do something about it. Thus, he suggested massaging it. The deep voice of his assured her that she could fully trust him as he’d finished massage courses.

      As his hands began their firm and confident gliding along her arm muscles, Katya closed her eyes and relaxed. A moment later she wished he would never stop.

      ‘Tell me if it hurts,’ Alexandre said as-a-matter-of-factly.

      ‘Damn, it feels so good. You must be having lots of clients,’ stated Katya, slightly rocking from his strong hands.

      ‘Oh, I’ve never thought of massaging as earning money. I just do it when someone needs it. Like, to my relatives or friends when they’re in pain, now you… maybe I should try earning some extra money with it,’ he said chuckling.

      ‘I’d be the first client then. I’ve been thinking of having my back massaged for ages. Just didn’t know where to go to,’ said Katya with a slight moan in her voice.

      ‘I could give you the first massage now if you want to. The first one is free, for my first client,’ the coach suggested seriously with a hardly noticeable playful undertone.

      ‘Right here?’ wondered Katya rounding her eyes, but expecting an affirmative answer.

      ‘No one is here. It’s my last class, and the receptionist has already left. On Fridays I am responsible for closing the place. No worries,’ informed Alexandre with an innocent smile.

      He fetched a mat from the corner of the room and a clean towel from the receptionist’s shelf. He spread it out on the mat, ‘Would that do for a massage table?’ wondered the ex-coach and newly-hired massage therapist squatting on the mat.

      ‘I suppose,’ responded Katya raising her shoulders and stretching her lips in a satisfactory smile.

      ‘Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back,’ uttered the jack-of-all-trades Alexander leaving the room.

      As he came back Katya was lying on the towel on her stomach, topless, anticipating his touch.

      ‘Do they have some music in here?’ wondered the patient.

      ‘Some yoga mantras, I believe. They have yoga classes in this room as well. Let me check,’ he said. ‘What ancient equipment,’ he said trying to turn on the cd-centre that he found in the corner of the room. As Alexandre held a wire he said, ‘Wait a minute, I think I can plug in my iPhone. I think I have some jazz. Would that suit you for the massage?’

      ‘I guess so,’ was Katya’s reply.

      As the music began he approached the mat and kneeled near Katya. ‘Sorry, no massage oil here I would find,’ he warned and began rubbing his palms against each other.

      ‘No worries,’ Katya said paying attention only to her back.

      What a welcoming and ticklish anticipation covered her back! It seemed to be a giant runway ready for a plane to land. Finally she felt his warm palms spread over her back – gliding, pushing, making her feel like dough in his firm men hands. The dough that was getting constant knots of electricity from his touch. Katya knew the feeling. A hell of a lot of chemistry she was getting from this young stud. And she felt the chemistry was mutual, so why not enjoy the evening? Her thoughts were interrupted by her own moaning as the masseur began to handle one spot with persistence.

      ‘Does it hurt here?’ Alexandre asked as a doctor pressing the spot harder with his firm fingers.

      ‘Yeah,’ said the patient. He concentrated on the spot now catterpillaring with his thumbs up the tension zone.

      ‘I think not a little,’ he said and added, ‘You have hell of a tension right here’.

      He kept on working on the same spot, now chopping up the tension zone with his loose hands luring Ekaterina’s blood flow to come up to help him heal her body.

      ‘It hurts but I like it. It feels good, a bit painful and ticklish but good. Same feeling when your muscles hurt when you’ve overworked, but I adore the feeling,’ explained Katya, her voice as if coming from a dungeon.

      ‘Good for you. Some cannot stand the pain and plead me to stop the execution,’ Alexandre informed chuckling.

      One song ended, and Teach Me Tiger by Marilyn Monroe poisoned the atmosphere around with its seducing, flirting, sexual vibes.

      ‘Didn’t know men listen to Marilyn Monroe these days,’ meowed Katya under Alexandre’s probing fingers.

      He said as an expert, ‘Well, who else would Marilyn sing to… actually it’s not my music. My sister borrowed my phone for one night, well, me with the phone, for her jazz party, cuz her phone broke down on the very evening. Good that I kept the music. It appears quite handy tonight.’

      As the procedure was close to an end Alexander placed his palms on Katya’s back and held them still. Then he took Katya’s T-shirt to cover her back.

      ‘That’s it. Lay still for a couple of minutes and only then get up,’ he instructed.

      ‘I’m afraid I can’t,’ she exclaimed turning over on her back, her T-shirt flying over. She held herself on her elbows demanding, ‘I would also like a massage on my front side, please,’ her no-longer-firm breasts exposed and her eyes boring into his pupils surrounded by light grey.

      He stared steadily at her for a whole minute. Never losing the eye contact, the masseur silently placed his right knee and right hand close to the opposite side of her body and sat on her like on a horse. Instead of horse reins he cupped her breasts. He gave her a gliding but confident kiss. Was he still in the massaging mode? Or could it be simply his style? His feature? Confidence all around him as his aura?

      ‘Call me Sasha, Ekaterina,’ he informed. ‘Would you like an inner massage too?’ he asked, his breathing deep and frequent at the same time, eyes half-closed.

      ‘Absolutely,’ Katya whispered in his ear and began pulling off his gym pants.

      ‘G’od, I’m nuts – he is a cute lil boy. He is nuts – I’m almost fifty-five, damn, almost