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Massage

We're standing in the conference room where He brushes past me, smiles, and casually asks: "Were you sick yesterday?"

I smile. "No," I reply, "I just needed a day off. Stress."

He taps my shoulder lightly and says, "Maybe you need another one of my massages." Before I could respond, He dashes out to get a fax.

I'm left standing there with red cheeks, a stirring nether region, and a glint in my eye.

Massage?

He invited me to his office before we leave. I have to be careful: I'm freshly groomed, and I've been known to show off.

Oy. Here I go again.
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