Puzzled, he peered into the gloom of the dark side street. "Who the hell?" he muttered.

''Arry! It's me! Josh."

The man caught up with Harry, whose worst fears were immediately realised, "Josh? What the hell are you doing here?" he asked.

"Seein' a geezer Mate. An' I spotted you comin' aht o' there."

Harry frowned. "Where?"

Josh pointed to a building. "There! The massage place."

Harry shrugged his shoulders, unsure if he could deny it and get away with it. There was no special reason why it should matter, he was single and could please himself, but Josh, of all people… He replied with a noncommittal, "Oh," while he tried to analyse the situation and collect his thoughts.

Josh grinned. "Is that the place you said the girls were fantastic?"

Harry tried his best to stick with denial. "No. Surely not."

"You said the place just off the 'igh Street, 'ere in tahn…"

"This isn't the High Street."

Josh pointed to the main road a few yards beyond. "That is, there."

"No it isn't."

"It's what everyone calls the 'igh Street."

The conversation was degenerating into farce and Harry gave up the struggle. "Oh well, perhaps it is the place I was talking about then, I don't remember." He tried to change the subject. "I thought you were up in Glasgow now, anyway."

"Not 'til t'morrer!"

"Oh."

"Catchin' the early train I am."

"Oh well. Have good journey. Must dash - in hurry you know."

"But…"

Harry almost ran round the corner and away from Josh. "Phew! Nosy bastard! Thank God he's going up north," he muttered with some annoyance, once he was well clear. Josh was the last person he wanted to let in on any part of his private life: the man was a one man broadcasting corporation. He could have kicked himself for the unguarded remark some time ago in a pub, about the girls being so nice at the massage parlour. Why he felt it necessary to do so he had no idea, but at the time he had been defending them against some awful and very inaccurate things Josh was saying about such places. Still, it did tell him one thing: it was time he stopped pussy-footing about and talked straight to Carla instead of all this seedy hole in the corner stuff. Once again he resolved to deal with it, but this time - as on so many occasions in the past few weeks - this time he meant it!

For just a moment, Harry stopped dead, dithering, and one might have been forgiven for thinking that maybe he was about to turn and carry out his promise to himself right away, but he shrugged his shoulders again. It was his favourite dismissive gesture, when he was confused and indecisive about something, or was avoiding facing the truth. He hurried on. These things were easy to say, but one had to pick the right moment, timing was always important, he told himself: he would do it the very next time he saw her.

*******

A week later, Harry slipped inconspicuously though the door to the massage parlour - at least he hoped he was inconspicuous. "Hello, Harry luv," the blonde behind the desk greeted him. "Carla'll be ready for you in a minute, she won't be long."

"Okay, Beth darling. No worries."

"You like Carla, don't you, luv?"

Harry nodded. "Um. Yes, sure do."

Beth pulled a sympathetic face. "She's a pretty little thing: too good for this place."

Harry smiled absently at her and then grinned. "The girls here are all nice. A lot better than some places I've been in my time."

Beth nodded. "Um. They're all too good for this place really."

"It's clean and pretty decent here. Not bad at all really."

"The customers round 'ere are bloody naff though. I dunno' how the girls put up with some of 'em." She shuddered. "Ugh! Makes my skin crawl."

"I s'pose it's a job like any other. It's why I always shower and stuff though, right before I come here."

"Oh, you're all right, darlin'. You're lovely. You could f*** me for nuthin', any time you wanted." She giggled. "Oops! Don't tell the boss I said that! He wouldn't appreciate me offering freebies much."

"I won't breathe a word - promise."

At that moment, a leggy, very scantily clad, and very sexy brunette appeared in the doorway to the rear of the premises. "Hello, Harry. What're you having today? The usual?"

"I expect so. You ready for me?"

"I'm always ready for you, Harry darling."

"Ah. That's nice." Harry gave a short laugh. "All bull of course, but nice anyway."

Carla grinned. "No it's not. Come on; your time starts now. What room Beth?"

"Five. Have fun you two."

"We will," Carla promised.

Room five was small, but then all the rooms were small. There was a bed and a chair and the usual assortment of oils and towels and stuff. Harry studied Carla's beautiful face. Her green eyes sparkled appreciatively as she unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it back to reveal his bronzed torso. She was always surprised that one so well muscled was relatively devoid of body hair and she liked it. She liked the feel of his skin too and she eagerly reached a hand behind her, snapped the clasp of her bra undone and removed the garment to display her breasts. Harry liked Carla's breasts. They were not so perfect that they appeared unreal, and yet they were firm to touch and stroke and delicious to squeeze and nibble and kiss. He liked them even more as they pressed against him then and Carla too enjoyed the feel of the smooth, almost hairless skin of his chest against them. "I love your skin, Harry," she murmured. Harry hesitated. Something seemed to be troubling him. "What's the matter, Harry sweetheart? Don't you like my tits anymore?"

"They're beautiful," Harry said, huskily. "Just like the rest of you."

"What's the matter then. Aren't you in the mood after all? Are you tired, my poor darling?"

"I don't know. I… I… Could I just have a massage today, do you think?"

Carla looked confused. "They won't give you a refund. If you asked for the works, that's what you pay for."

"The money doesn't matter."

"God! I wish I could say that."

"Look… Carla, I… I sort of wanted to talk to you. I don't even mind if you don't want to do the massage."

"Whatever you want, sweetie. What the customer wants, the customer gets. Well, within reason anyway. If you want to talk dirty - that's fine by me. What do you want to talk about? D'you want me to describe how wet you make me, just thinking of your beautiful big c**k and how I…"

"Stop it Carla! Please!"

"What's up? Tell me what you want? I'll do anything for you, Harry; things I wouldn't do with other customers. You know I like you. I won't even tell them at the desk - just between you and me, eh?"

"I just want to talk. Plain… talk."

"Eh? Well I… Oh, okay then. If that's what you want." Carla actually sounded quite hurt.

"It is."

Carla pouted. "I was quite looking forward to doing it with you today, Harry. I like doing it with you 'cos you make me come - I don't have to fake it. You make me feel good."

"Really? Truly?"

"Would I lie to you, Harry darling?"

"Yes. Probably. Oh, I don't know." Harry gathered all his courage. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

Suddenly, Carla was deadly serious. "Look, Harry. I'm not too sure this is a very good idea. Are you sure about this?"

Harry nodded...

© Copyright Christopher Williams 2007 all rights reserved