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By Gun Brooke Janeway motioned toward the bed, feeling indecisive. “Who should go first? I have actually given a massage, once or twice, but you have of course red up on all the techniques known to man.” “Yes. I think I should massage you.” Seven walked over to the small tray on one of the nightstands. “You look tired. If I see you through an invigorating session, you can massage me afterwards with a superior result.” There was no ulterior motive behind Seven’s words. Janeway was sure of it, and yet the words invigorating and superior result made her hands tremble. She was adamant not to show any hesitation or shyness, even if in fact it seemed undoable to disrobe in front of Seven. Janeway tried to talk herself into believing that Seven would not even raise an eyebrow at human nudity. “All right. You find everything you need?” Yeah, so I’m stalling. “Yes. Disrobe and lie face down on the bench.” Seven pointed toward a state-of-the-art massage bench by the fireplace. “You will not be cold.” Janeway nodded and walked over to the bench, untying her belt. Her fingertips were cold and she wiped her sweaty palms on the fabric. Examining the bench, she looked for a towel to wrap around her, but there were none. She gave an inner sigh and let the robe slip from her shoulders. Tossing it on a chair, she sat on the bench before moving over on her stomach, making a point of not looking at Seven. “Good,” Janeway heard Seven said. A faint rustle of silk came closer and Seven placed something next to her on the bench. “Lie still. This is hot oil and you might overturn the bowl if you move.” “Understood.” Janeway murmured into the hole in the headrest. A few seconds passed and then warm, slippery hands were on her back, between Janeway’s shoulder-blades. Softly, with gentle force, Seven slid them all over her back, getting the scented, musk-like oil over her skin. Janeway shuddered, unable to hide the surge of pleasure that rose within. “Too hard?” Seven asked, her voice a couple of tones deeper. “No. Fine. Go on.” Oh, God.
Seven’s hands
returned with more oil and then began the sweetest torture Janeway
had ever been subjected to in her life. Her toes curled as Seven
massaged every little knot out of her back. She worked her way down,
stopping at every single hurting spot, making Janeway seriously
wonder if Seven had altered her cortical implant to ex-ray vision. A
moan released from Janeway’s vocal cords only to stop midway through
when Seven’s hands suddenly left. They returned with more oil, and
Janeway forgot to breathe altogether when Seven’s next move was to
spread it liberally over her buttocks.
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