Hidden Identity

Chapter 1

TATUM🌺

"Tatum! Hurry up! We are going to be late for our appointment." My sister yells from downstairs.

Today is our monthly girls day out. Each month me, my sister, mother and cousins go out for a girl's day to 'release stress' and 'bond'. Today we are going to get massages. I've never gotten a massage so last night I looked up what to do before a massage. Yes, I am the type of person who likes to be overly prepared. But I was not prepared for the sight I saw when I stepped into the massage room.

A tall muscular guy sits on top of the table, legs casually swinging back and forth over the edge. My family suggested that I needed a man's touch and those hands look like they can work magic. But that's not the sight that throws me off. This man is gorgeous.

Beautiful dark brown curly hair with a stylish tapered undercut styled perfectly to the left. His large muscles bulge from his tight, white, short-sleeved shirt that contrasts perfectly against his tan skin. A tattoo can be seen on his left forearm with another on his right bicep. His eyes are a beautiful shade of blue that I could easily get lost in and his thick, full lips make me wonder what they would feel like on my body.

You do not need to be thinking these thoughts about your masseuse, Tatum.

After us scanning each other for a good ten seconds, he smiles to reveal a perfect set of teeth and hops off the table. I feel exposed as I stand in front of him in nothing but a white thong covered by a towel with slides on my feet.

"Hello," he says after another few seconds, his voice low and deep with a tinge of huskiness that makes my knees buckle.

"Hi." My voice sounds like I haven't used it in days. Quickly clearing my throat, I make my way towards the table with the man watching.

Silently he walks over to a water dispenser and fills up a cup before making his way back over to me. "For your throat. You can just lay down on the table and relax." I take the water and down it in one gulp, thankful for the cool liquid.

"Don't tuck the towel under you, put your arms by your side." He says taking the cup out of my hand and walking out before I can say anything.

"Ok."

He leaves the room and I climb on top of the table and lay on my stomach with the towel draped over my body. A minute later my masseuse returns.

"Alright, I'm going to start with your shoulders and work my way down, if that's fine with you."

"You're the masseuse," I reply.

He chuckles and steps in front of me. "Oil or lotion?"

"Oil."

With a nod he moves back behind me and folds my towel back and I close my eyes as he begins to pour oil on my back. His fingers glide over my back and up my shoulders. Then he begins to add pressure with his palms massaging out the tension in my muscles. A soft moan escapes my lips, unwarranted, and I tense with embarrassment. My family said the massage would maybe hurt a little, but it feels amazing.

My mind has traveled somewhere else when the man above me speaks. "You're very tense," he says slowly moving his hands up to my shoulders. "Are you stressed? If you don't mind me asking."

"Stress would be an understatement," I breathe out on a sigh. "I usually don't stress a lot, but when I do the levels are high."

"Husband?"

"No husband."

"Fiancée?"

I laugh. "No fiancée."