Hi everyone!
So, I'm taking some time from filling prompts and I decided to give this idea I had some time ago a try and see where it lead. It's rated M but it's just to be safe since there is nothing very explicit going on... But I prefer not to say anything else and just leave you guys to find out the rest :D
Enjoy
It's all a mess of moans and groans and little yelps accompanied by a string of "Oh yes", delighted "right there", and a few occasional mumbles (coming through barely muffled by what you have found out in the grossest way being way too thin walls) of something that sounds like "harder, please", and after a week, you have had enough.
That's it, you think, slamming your book and the notes on the desk with enough force to make it shake, getting up from the chair so abruptly that you almost knock it backwards, stomping across the room and storming out of the front door and across the hallway with firm decision, bounding up the stairs with boiling irritation that only increases with each step.
Whoever it is that is making these... these obscene noises in the middle of the day and has been every single day for the past week, is going to finally hear you.
There is no mistaking which door. The... sounds... that you can clearly hear coming from behind the third one on the left, (the apartment sitting perfectly above yours) are more than enough evidence.
How anyone else on this floor, fuck, in the entire building, hasn't made a noise complaint yet remains a mystery to you.
So much is the irritation in fact that it doesn't even occur to you that it's midday of a working day and that there aren't many tenants staying at home anyway.
You pound on the door and buzz twice the bell for good measure, barely fighting the urge to tap your foot impatiently like an old lady who came to complain about the tv volume, while you wait and scowl upon the blank tag under the doorbell.
You don't know the entire building.
Didn't see the necessity of introducing yourself to anyone else besides a couple of neighbors given that you usually don't spend that much time in your own apartment anyway, what with classes at college, studying at the library (well, usually, at least, when the heating system isn't currently under maintenance and forced to close, of course), being a TA of a pretentious dick professor, and waiting tables at the diner two blocks away to support yourself all while working on your dissertation.
So you really have no idea who is about to answer to... You glance up at the numbers hung on the door. Apartment 14B. But you have this mental picture ready (for some pretty obvious reason) of some half-naked guy opening the door with a towel wrapped around the middle, and generally looking in between smug as fuck because he is getting some right when everyone else in the building is apparently at work or doing their own business out, but also annoyed at you for having interrupted something that (given the moans and groans) really doesn't leave much room for other interpretations.
You hate to make assumptions.
So maybe it's only appropriate that this one only time it comes slapping you right in the face when, in the moment the door swings open, there is no half-smug, half-annoyed, partially naked guy wearing only a towel.
Nope.
Not even close.
"Yes?"
Something behind your sternum stutters, coming to a startling halt and leaving you with that sense of hollowness caved in your chest where a split second ago you swear there was some air, and that suddenly leaves your lips in a muted gasp in the moment your gaze lands on the person- on the woman, that greets you.
Bright, inquisitive, breathtaking stunning emerald eyes blink curiously at you from behind dark-rimmed glasses, and for a moment, as your gaze dances across very attractive features and long black strands of hair, you forget altogether why you came here.
She is just...
Wow.
"Can I help you?"
Even in your dazed state you can't help but notice the register of that voice, deep and smooth, like dark velvet, finding it immediately incompatible with the one responsible of all the high pitched moans you have heard over the past week.
The voice. The moans and all the noises...
Right!
Your derailed thoughts find their way back into tracks, shaking you out from your stupor just as the dark haired woman in front of you arches a perfectly sculpted, inquisitive eyebrow. She looks way too collected for someone who was clearly getting some morning... excitement.
Is it possible you might have knocked on the wrong door?
You take a look around the hallway but...
Nope. It's definitely this one. There are no more ambiguous noises, at all. In fact, all you can hear is some calm, relaxing music playing softly from the inside of this woman's apartment, filtering through the slit of the open door along with... a particular blend of scents that your nose catches easily in the otherwise stale air of the hallway. Something that smells like... sandalwood incense and citrus candles?
"So? Did you... need something, or...?"
The hint of impatience (or at the very least confusion, you are not sure) for how kindly veiled, is still there on the raven-haired woman's face, and with motive.
You don't dare to wonder how much of a lunatic you must look like right now. Knocking and buzzing insistingly on a stranger's door, in the middle of the day, and then don't say a word.
The thought of being taken for a crazy person is enough to sober you up a little and make your tongue functional once more.
"Yes, right... Sorry, I- uhm," It still takes you an extra second to collect your thoughts. "I live in the apartment below this one and... well, I wanted to ask you if... since I'm working on my dissertation and it's difficult to focus, you could be a little more... considerate? With... all the noise?"
It's much more polite than the harsh snap that you intended throwing at whoever you thought was on the other side of the door, but the woman in front of you looks so... unaware? Baffled even. Enough so that for the second time in less than as many minutes you are tempted to take another look around the hallway, growing more concerned that you might, after all, have knocked on the wrong door.
You must have.
She isn't even half naked. In fact, after a brief scan, you notice that she seems to be wearing one of those nurse's scrubs. Which is... odd.
You don't get the chance to give it much thought, however, because suddenly, after reprocessing your words, the woman's frown smooths into something akin to realization.
But just when she is about to answer, another voice, another female voice - much more feminine - coming from someone on the inside of the apartment rings just before a tall woman with long, curly, fiery red hair shows up at the raven-haired woman's side, tugging down at her shirt and adjusting the strap of a purse on her shoulder, looking a bit flustered but otherwise very composed.
"I'm so sorry about that," She says, to you, offering a sincerely apologetic smile. And yes! Right there! That's the voice!
"That was totally my fault, but this one..." She admits and you watch then as her smile turns into a grin contained only by a suggestive lip bite when she turns to the brunette. "Has truly magical hands."
Your eyes widen, startled by such straightforwardness.
Because there is no way to misinterpret those words. Just like there is no way to ignore the seductive wink, or the smirk, or the general look of... contentment that is all over this woman's face.
Fuck.
You weren't wrong at all, were you?
Heat starts to gather on your cheeks, but luckily the flustered look on your face seems to get unnoticed as the brunette turns to her... what? Client? - At this point it seems quite plausible - and fiddles with the glasses to conceal a smile at the compliment before a frown knits together her perfectly sculpted eyebrows when she sees her... client... adjusting her clothes and putting on a coat.
"You leaving already? But I didn't get to finish."
Oh god.
You almost choke on that one.
"Yeah, I know, I'm so sorry," The redhead apologizes, pulling out her hair from the collar of the jacket. "I got a message from work, need to get back. But I'm going to face the rest of the day so much more easily and... relaxed, thanks to you." With that and a smile she leans in to plant a kiss that is way too close to the corner of the brunette's mouth to be just friendly, and if that isn't enough to convince you that your assumption was right, every doubt you had lingering is gone when, before she pulls back, you hear her whisper something in her ear that sounds like, "I left you a tip on the bed."
Oh god...
You honestly don't know what is worse.
The moans and groans that you have endured for the past week, the fact of having a neighbor that is a sex worker, or having interrupted her right in the middle of... - you look at the nurse scrubs that she is wearing once more - what seems to be some kind of roleplay.
No. You know what it's even worse. It's actually being here, witnessing all of this.
"You didn't have to." The raven-haired woman scolds with a sigh. And then as if suddenly remembering something, right when you thought things couldn't get more embarrassing than this, she adds, "Did you remember to take the soothing lotion I gave you earlier? You are going to need it for the weekend if you want to be able to walk."
Oh for the love of...
You don't even dare to think about what kind of... of sexual practice requires to apply a soothing lotion for an entire weekend afterwards!
"I did," The redhead (much to the mortification you seem to be the only one experiencing right now) practically purrs. "Thanks, gorgeous."
With a final goodbye and another sincere apology to you for the noise, to which you just nod wordlessly with a way-too-big smile plastered on your face, she exits, and you move aside letting her pass, still speechless and barely managing to keep your mouth close in an effort not to gape like a total idiot, especially when you watch her walk away, unable not to notice the slight limp in her steps.
For how hard you try, you know that there is nothing you can do to conceal the searing embarrassment that has claimed your face with a blazing blush.
"I'm truly sorry about that," The brunette apologizes with a sigh, running a tired hand through her long, silky dark hair. "She can be... very loud, and I always forget how thin these walls are. I'll have her wear a gagball or something next time." She smiles, winks even, and you might as well be going up in flames, something that she definitely notices and that apparently, much to your growing embarrassment, amuses her enough to make her grin, even more widely when you stammer for a reassurance.
"Oh no, no please, it won't be necessary. Really!"
All you want to do is get away from this incredibly awkward situation, get downstairs to your apartment and forget any of this ever happened.
But... there is something in this woman's smile. Something reflected in those stunning, piercing, deeply mysterious green eyes that keeps you rooted to the spot and has your heart stutter once more in your chest when she appraises you curiously.
"I don't think I have ever seen you around."
Well, you didn't either. Obviously, because- "Yeah, I would have definitely noticed you."
You freeze.
But the words are already out.
Oh shit.
You thought what you meant to say, and said out loud what you meant to keep for yourself.
If only the ground would give you the mercy of opening up and swallowing you whole...
But no. Instead, as your cheeks flare with an even brighter blush, and right when you are considering the idea of turning around and run back home like a little kid that has been caught during a prank, your attention gets once again stolen by the flash of a surprised smile, a curious, and definitely amused smirk.
"Really? And why's that?" Your neighbor asks, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest, and that intrigued, crooked smile tugging higher at the corner of her mouth.
"Just... You know," You let out a nervous, little, awkward chuckle that you have some trouble in believing it really comes from you. "Small building. I would have... remembered your face." It's what you settle on at last, simple and appropriate, casual enough, if only, for some reason, the heat flaring on your face and neck hadn't become even more scalding with an extra drop of embarrassment. Something that doesn't improve when all you get in response is a wider smirk.
"Well, in that case, I would have definitely noticed you too then." She counters, surprising you with a boldness that fits her perfectly, and one that she seems to carry around with remarkable easiness.
"My name is Alex by the way."
A perfectly manicured hand with long, slender fingers is extended to you, and you don't even hesitate to accept it in a brief but gently firm shake that is returned with the same warm and confident pressure.
"Piper."
She smiles.
"Nice to meet you, Piper."
There is no reason, not a single one, that should have your heart race and leap in your chest the way it does when you hear her say your name. But there it is. Making little flips.
It must be that exquisite deep voice.
That gorgeous smile.
Or... the glint of mischief shining into those stunning green eyes.
Wait.
What?
"So, you mentioned that you have been working on your dissertation? That sounds like a lot of stress."
The clearly merciful change of subject helps a great deal in diverting your attention from... other, quite sudden, and very confusing thoughts.
"You have no idea." You groan rubbing at your temples with one hand, already feeling the beginning of a headache starting there just thinking about the mess of notes and papers and books currently scattered all over your desk. Waiting for you to put them in some resemblance of order.
"It's been driving me insane."
The woman- Alex, chuckles. A soft rumble that you can't help but find so sweetly husky.
"Yeah, I bet. But..." She pauses, seeming to ponder over a thought. "Maybe I can help with that. Relieving stress is part of my job after all."
You didn't think it was possible for your blush to become even more incandescent, but after that suggestion, here you are. Your face could fucking glow in the dark.
"Oh, no! No, that won't be necessary, b-but thank you for the offer!" You stutter like you have never ever done before, which brings your embarrassment to a whole new level. Something that doesn't get better when she insists.
"Please. Consider it as an apology for disturbing your studies with all the noise. It's the least I can do."
You are just about to stammer and sputter and trip all over yourself to politely decline one more time when she speaks again.
"Studying for all the hours you do every day, hunched over books... It's not ideal for your back. I bet you have gathered a lot of tension on your spine, perhaps even shoulder and definitely on the neck, am I wrong?"
Oh, she isn't. Between studying and working you really don't know what is making you more-
Wait.
What did she say?
It's only then that you notice it.
In the unmistakable clinical way she is appraising you, the curiously narrowed eyes as she scans you up and down, examining your...
Posture.
And suddenly, everything makes sense.
The immaculate white scrubs.
The relaxing music.
The soothing smell of incense and citrus candles.
The realization is startling.
And when you manage to take a look over her shoulders and see how the room is arranged with a long and thin stuffed portable bed opened in the middle of the living room, bottles of oil and folded towels set neatly on a nearby table, you feel like such an idiot, getting infinitely more embarrassed than you thought you would after assuming that your neighbor was a sex worker.
"You're a massage therapist?!"
You really don't mean to practically shout that question, but, on your defense, you are beyond baffled.
Even Alex (rightfully so) startles a bit at the unexpectedly raised volume of your voice, looking genuinely taken aback, but she still manages to nod, slowly, eyebrows deeply furrowed.
"Uh... Yes? Why?" And yet, despite the obvious confusion etched on her features, an amused little chuckle still slips past her lips.
That's the exact same question you are asking yourself while wishing to disappear from this entire situation. Why did you have to come up here, with a wrongful assumption about this woman being a sex worker, only to act like the stammering fool you have never, ever been in your life as soon as she opened the door?
But then you notice something tugging at your neighbor's expression. A subtle little tilt of her lips that is only contained from growing into an obvious smile by the way she bites at the inner corner of her mouth.
She is amused.
And you swear she has this look on her face like she knows what you were thinking about.
Maybe you are just paranoid.
Or maybe your embarrassment mingled with your tiredness has reached a new level that gives you some sort of hallucinations.
"You didn't answer."
That deep voice shakes you out from your thoughts, eyes blinking to focus on her and on that amused curl of a smile that your stammering and general embarrassment have most likely elicited in her.
"I'm sorry, what?"
Those rosy lips stretch further into a wider yet still somehow contained smile.
"My offer," She kindly reminds. "I could help you loosen up some of the knots of tension that usually form under the shoulder blades to people who work for many hours on a desk."
Oh.
It's tempting.
You admit as much. If not openly to her to at least yourself. But you shouldn't. She is just being nice, and yet she has insisted, and you don't want to be rude and turn down her kindness. Although... it isn't just that.
You can barely catch a glimpse of it. The mischievousness. Shimmering just beneath the surface of those endless emerald pools.
It intrigues you.
Draws you in.
It puts you under a spell that erases all the things you know you should be doing right now instead of being here, considering the incredibly tempting offer for a relaxing massage from a professional.
Before you know it, you find yourself nodding and, ultimately, accepting with an irrepressible thrill of intrigue tingling up your spine.
"Yeah, okay. If... you're sure it's no trouble for you?" You ask, and whatever sliver of self-consciousness you felt is immediately taken away as soon as you gaze at her and see how the smile on her face has now blossomed into a full irresistible grin from which you find yourself unable to look away.
"Not at all. Believe me, it's my pleasure."
It is only when you are on your way downstairs with an appointment for later this evening that the haze that has lifted and overwhelmed your senses as soon as the green-eyed, dark haired woman has opened her door, starts to settle enough for you to realize what you have gotten yourself into.
. . .
The apartment is a lot nicer than yours.
Identical in construction, just as are all the other apartments in the building, but there are interesting touches that depict the very vibrant personality of someone who seems to have a pretty good taste, and not only in decor.
The tall and wide bookshelves filled with any sort of reading emphasizes even more that impression, capturing your interest as soon as you step into the cozy living room.
You don't get the chance to get a better look at some of the authors, your attention getting easily caught by all the other things surrounding you as Alex leads into the room that in your own apartment downstairs you use as your study and that your neighbor instead has arranged as a massage room.
"All right, I'm gonna give you a couple of minutes while I prepare some of my stuff, meanwhile you undress as much as you feel comfortable and then lie down on the table." With that and another one of those smiles you haven't been able to shake away since you first saw it this morning, she hands you a neatly folded towel.
You barely manage to articulate a "thank you" that she is out the door, leaving you some privacy.
You sigh, taking off your sneakers and sweater and shirt and bra, folding each piece of clothing on the chair against the wall, and it is only when you take off your jeans and see the ridiculous Christmasy underwear that you remember about putting them on this morning.
Great. As if you didn't have any moments that have turned out being embarrassing enough today.
They would be fine, really, if only they hadn't little candy canes printed on them. Yet another proof that you have been so busy that, among the whirlwind of chaos that has become your schedule, you have once again forgotten to do your laundry, leaving you with no choice but wear the out-of-season, decored undergarment while the much more modest rest is currently swimming in your washing machine.
You ponder whether it is better for you to leave them on or strip completely not wanting to get caught wearing such a ridiculous undergarment, especially not by your insanely hot neighbor.
"You ready in there?"
Shit.
The call and light knocking comes before you can make up your mind or even think back about that "insanely hot" bit that your mind has unexpectedly blurted out seemingly out of nowhere, and so you just hurry to the massage bed, laying down on your stomach and using the towel that she gave you to cover yourself up from your lower back to the middle of your thighs.
There. That will do it.
"Yes, I'm ready." You call back once you are sure you are covered enough.
You can hear some muffled rummaging through the door before it opens.
When she comes in, she is holding a bunch of bottles of what you assume are different kinds of massage oils.
"I forgot to ask you what you'd have preferred, and if you were particularly sensitive to specific fragrances, some people are." She explains setting the few bottles down on the nearby table already filled with many other lotions and products.
"Oh, thank you, but no, at least I don't think so," You answer, smiling at her thoughtfulness. "Although..." You pause, scanning the labels before pointing at one in particular. "I think I might go for the green tea and jasmine one over there."
That's all you have to say to make the corner of those lips curl into another little smirk as she promptly reaches for it.
"As you wish."
She uncaps it and pours a modest quantity in her palm, warming it up just by rubbing her hands together.
It is only when you see her coming closer that you suddenly become extremely aware of what is going to happen next.
You have never done anything like this before, and while you know that you don't have to do anything in particular except remain still, for some reason, the thought of being touched by this woman makes you squirm a little in your position, in an attempt to shake off the nonsense of self-consciousness that has started stirring inside you.
"You nervous?"
And, of course, apparently, she is either incredibly perceptive, or your uneasiness is actually more obvious than you didn't bother to think it was.
"Uh, no, no... it's just," You pause and then sigh. "It's been a long time since I have taken some time for myself like this, you know? I'm just not used in... having nothing to do, just lay down and relax." It's not the entire truth about your sudden nervousness, by it's the only thing close enough to it that you are willing to admit openly. Because the whole "I can't actually remember the last time someone has touched me" speech that holds the real truth, seems far too intimate. So much more than laying on a stranger's massage table practically naked.
You don't know what you expected in response to that, but you weren't prepared for the chuckle coming from above you.
And what is even more absurd, is that hearing that soft warm sound rumbling so sweetly, is enough to make you lose some tension. You don't even question it, just accept it gratefully.
"Yeah, I can see that. You look just like someone who isn't used in being still actually." She comments with that drop of humor in her tone that you are starting to think either belongs in her voice, or you are the reason why it surfaces.
The thought distracts you enough that it takes you a couple of extra seconds to get back to what she actually said about you.
"Hey now," You protest, but with no real defensive bite. It is more like a playful bickering. "What is that supposed to mean?"
That, of course, earns you another chuckle.
"Nothing. Just lay your head down and don't move." She instructs. "Let's see if I can manage to make you change your mind about taking time for yourself every once in a while."
You have an answer ready, another protest actually, that isn't even truthful, but you don't get the chance to say a word, because just as you do as instructed, your eyes flutter shut and a soft breathed sigh slips past your lips as soon as her warm, firm hands settle on your bare back and start moving, pressing and kneading up towards your shoulders, taking away whatever remnant of an argument you were about to put together.
You really have no memory of anyone who has touched you like this before.
There is nothing sexual about it, but the intimacy of it is even more overwhelming than any kind of stimulation you have received recently.
It feels... Truly amazing.
A soft, hummed moan slips past your lips without you even realizing it.
"Is the pressure okay?"
The touch is firm and confident, expert, even though you have never been massaged by a professional before and have no way to compare, but you can recognize the natural skill in those long fingers, the precision in the motion of the thumbs circling along each side of your spine as she works her way down. And the warmth of those hands only makes it all the more exquisite.
"Yes," You breathe, exhaling a blissful sigh of pure contentment. "Yes, it's perfect."
It makes you so oddly glad that you decided to come up here this morning and complain.
And now that you think about it, you really can't help but ask.
"Do you usually give away free massages to get away with neighbors complaints?"
You barely refrain from adding that if that is the case, then it is working with you too, but you are pretty sure that there is no need to comment on what is clearly obvious enough.
"No, not usually, no. Although..." She pauses. "I might have given a few samples of products to the old Russian lady that lives downstairs, across the hall from you I guess. She looks like the kind of tenant you want to keep on your good side."
The laughter that bubbles up in your chest is so easy and genuine that it catches you a little by surprise, but it feels so good. It's been a while since you even laughed.
"Yeah," You agree in between chuckles. "I've had my own history with her. Made a comment about the hallway smelling of garlic once." You still cringe at that memory. "Let's just say that she didn't take it well. And I'm pretty sure she was the one who intercepted my takeout orders for a week. I almost starved."
Alex's laugh is deep and true and utterly amused.
But doesn't matter how much she insists, or how beautiful is the smile that you see on her face when you dare to glance up at her, you still refuse to answer when she asks you what you had to do in order to be forgiven, deciding instead in changing the subject into a safer territory that won't trigger some more embarrassment in you. You already got plenty of that already today.
"So, you like, have your own place where you work or you just moved here in the city?"
Even if you try to put it lightly and keep it casual, she still seems to catch the curiosity creeping into the other question you really want to ask her without appearing too nosy.
You just can't quite get over the fact that you have never seen her around in the building before.
"I guess that the reason you have never seen me around is because we have different working schedules," She answers, and that's a more than plausible explanation, especially considering that during the day you usually study at the library.
"...Also, I work on cruise ships and I actually only stay here for two weeks per month."
"What?" Once again, this woman manages to surprise you. "No way!"
Your half shout of amazement is rewarded by yet another deep, slightly husky chuckle as Alex urges you down onto the massage table when in your uncontained excitement you try to turn on your side and look at her with wide eyes.
"God that sounds amazing. So you are always traveling? Where do you usually go?"
You don't even need to turn to get a better look at her in order to see the humor on her face when you can clearly hear it in her voice when she responds, clearly entertained by your enthusiasm.
"Florida mostly, but also Bahamas. Last week we docked at Nassau."
You groan, unable to remember the last time you took a vacation anywhere, let alone on some paradisiacal island.
"You okay there?" Alex, however, seems to take that little sound that has escaped from your lips as one of discomfort when she also happens to move your arm and dig her fingers in between the muscles under your shoulder blade. "This spot is particularly delicate, I know."
"No, no it's fine." It's actually a little uncomfortable, you realize as soon as you focus on it. But she still is very gentle and also... "You are very talented."
She is extremely talented, definitely knows all the right spots and the pressure to apply to them.
It might be professional and with the sole purpose of helping you loosen up the knots of tension results of weeks of a stressful routine, but... It's difficult to ignore how your body is starting to react to that touch in a way that is... less than innocent.
You get so lost in the feeling, in the way your muscles relax and melt under the ministration of those dexterous fingers that you don't even hear all the noises of approval that slip from your lips, only becoming aware of them when Alex teases you about it.
"You might want to keep it down kid, I'm not used in giving massages this late in the evening, someone might come to complain about all the noise."
There is no trace of authentic worry in that warning. You can clearly hear it in her voice that she is just teasing you. Still, that doesn't mean that the comment doesn't elicit a soft blush on your cheeks from which you try to divert the attention with a sarcastic retort.
"You are hilarious."
"Yeah, I've been told before." She replies cheekily. "And... Just so you know... it's normal to experience arousal during the treatment."
You visibly startle at that. Eyes snapping wide open. Muscles tensing up with a shock.
"What?!" You sputter, once more only urged to stay down by the hands still working easily along your back. "That's... I-I'm not-"
"It's a pretty common reaction, don't worry." She says it so lightly, dismissingly, like it's really just an information and not something that your body is indeed experiencing, doesn't matter how hard you try to ignore the dull, but still dangerously echoing throb that has started between your legs.
"Especially for women," She continues casually, and you are still too dumbfounded to respond in any way, not to mention suddenly very distracted as those infinitely skilled, oil-slick hands slide further down, lower, towards the small of your back, stopping just a tempting inch above the towel.
You find yourself swallowing down a moan and pressing your legs together.
"It must be immensely stressful working on your dissertation. And if a massage doesn't work... Well, there are many other activities known to be helpful in relieving tension and stress."
You almost choke on your own tongue.
The rudely blunt suggestion comes out a bit smoother thanks to the casual tone held in her voice, making it sound somehow lower and even more... enticing than what it already is.
And yet, even if front of such proposition that leaves very little to the imagination, under the initial shock, one of the first thoughts that you stumble upon is that, of course, she would happen to know all about certain activities, you are ready to bet on that.
You truly can't believe the nerve that this woman has.
Throwing comments like this around as if (despite the ease with which you have fallen into a comfortable, effortless conversation) you weren't practically strangers to each other.
In the end, you can't even help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Or maybe it is because it's the only other reaction that masks enough your... other more physical ones that she has elicited with such nonchalant comment, and that you are starting to worry she'll begin to notice, especially considering how observant she seems to be.
"Are you... Are making advances at me? I thought you were a professional." You taunt her in between playfulness, genuine curiosity and... that something else that presents like a thrill of intrigue tickling your spine. "Doesn't this go against some rule or something?"
"First of all, I am always professional." She defends, calmly. "I was simply recommending things like exercising, practice some relaxation technique, or even get more sleep. Extremely banal, I know. But it really helps to lower the levels of cortisol in your system."
Oh.
You have no idea why you feel suddenly so... disappointed by that answer.
"And second," She continues, pulling you out from your confusing thoughts but offering nothing to replace that odd sense of hollowness. "It's also true that I didn't earn a doctor degree of any kind in my massages courses, so you are not a patient and I wouldn't break any oath. In fact, you are not even a client, so if I were making you any advance, my behavior would hardly be considered as unprofessional."
She seems to have an answer ready for everything, this woman.
And her sincerity masked by playfulness is so curiously magnetic, it draws you in.
You shift in your position, turning around on one side, and this time she doesn't prevent you from moving.
Your eyes lock with hers, but for once, those gleaming green gems are unreadable. You can't understand if she is being sincere or having fun teasing you or what.
And so, way too captivated by the idea of keep playing this game and see where it leads, before you even have a chance to consider it better, you ask her, "Then who am I?"
The corner of her mouth twitches into a smile that is just barely hinted, but that you can find suddenly sparking so much more brightly right into those deep green eyes with the unmistakable glint of amusement rippling just beneath the surface as she answers.
"The stressed-out student neighbor from downstairs who happens to be kinda hot and who came knocking on my door with the fury of a Titan only to turn into a rambling mess once I answered. And who I'm pretty sure was totally convinced I was a sex worker of some kind right in the middle of a... client session."
You try - you really do - to keep your jaw closed, but your mouth falls open in shock and your eyes widen anyway. Cheeks heating up, flaring instantly with the familiar warmth of embarrassment you thought you had dealt with enough for the day.
"W-what?! That's not- Pfff. That's ridiculous!" You stammer, pulling yourself up into a sitting position, lifting up the towel from around your waist and holding it against your chest to keep yourself covered. "A sex worker? Why, why would I even think something like that? That's totally prejudicial, not to mention insulting! And I don't ramble!"
"Yeah, that much is clear." She teases, cocking her head to the side and pretending to conceal her grin by narrowing her eyes in fake curiosity. "What did you say you study again? Communication, was it?"
You shoot her a glare but there isn't any real weight in it. She just chuckles, infinitely amused, even when your eyes narrow further into two thin slits.
"Are you always this-"
"What?" A perfectly sculpted eyebrow arches seductively, just as a smirk that you shouldn't find equally irresistible tugs at her lips. "Charming?"
"Irritating." You correct, because she is. God if she is... Or maybe you are just trying to find a way to divert the attention towards her, providing the illusion that you aren't the one currently under scrutiny and the reason of her obvious amusement.
Considering the way her smile only widens in response, however, there is no doubt that she takes that adjective as an actual compliment, much to your boiling irritation.
Honestly, it's a reaction that doesn't even surprise you.
But that's not what makes it so infuriating.
No... It's actually the undeniable fact of how much you find yourself liking that smile adorned with that smug little tilt.
"So just to be clear," She summarizes and you straighten your back, jutting your chin out, ready for an argument, assuming a proper posture as if you weren't currently sitting there in front of her practically naked under the towel covering your front. "You are denying to ever making any kind of assumption about me this morning?"
You squirm. You have never been good in lying and you have this weird feeling that even if you were to deny it with your best poker face, she would still spot the lie.
You opt for an alternative approach instead that would hopefully spare whatever remains of your already bruised ego.
"To be fair," You start, as composed as you can. "You said to your... friend from this morning, to use a lotion you gave her for the entire weekend, and then she left limping! You have to admit that witnessing that alone leads to certain conclusions. Not to mention the noises."
You know that your attempt to keep the rest of your ego from getting further beaten fails when you see her struggling to hold back a laugh.
"That's not true. You already had that idea in mind probably, what you saw just fed up your... active imagination." She states confidently. "But that's okay. I don't mind the assumption. And just because I have the impression that otherwise, you won't leave it alone, "my friend from this morning," She quotes. "She was limping because she has sciatica, but in between exercises and the massages I give her when I'm in the city, she is getting much better."
You are really starting to hate how easily she comes up with the most valid explanations to each one of your doubts. But what is even more annoying is that for the first time since... ever, this woman has managed to leave you utterly speechless.
With no retort. No argument ready. No one has ever made you shut up before, not even in the debate group at college.
And just when you think it can't get more humiliating than this, with you left gaping like a fish, her gaze, those piercing green eyes filled with amusement, shift to look a couple of inches below your waist. Just where the towel has left part of your underwear exposed.
You Christmasy underwear with the little candy canes printed on them.
When you realize that and try to pull down the towel in a hurry in an attempt to cover them up, it's already too late.
"Love the panties by the way." And then the smirk on her face finally breaks through with a flash of white teeth. "They're cute. A little out of season maybe, but-"
That's it.
For the second time in one day, you have reached your limit.
But you really don't know from where it comes that extra push that makes you do what you do next.
What motivates you from interrupting her in such a most unexpected way.
...what makes you lean in and press your lips against her rosy, generous, smiling ones that you soon discover being even softer than they look.
It becomes clear that the reason because you do it has less to do with it being the ultimate resource to find an escape of some sort from her insufferable teasing and more because... damn it. You wanted to do it since you met her this morning.
Your heart is pounding, your fingertips tingling with electricity, your veins burning with adrenaline, and that feeling that up until now has been just a dull, muted throb in your lower belly, stirs with the same intensity of an earthquake.
The kiss doesn't last long enough, not even for you to register how the lips against yours are just starting to respond, right in the moment you decide to pull back.
The only pride that you take in, is that, at last, you finally managed to catch her off guard. And that the look of utter surprise on her face is priceless.
"What was that for?" She asks, softly, voice husky, green eyes blinking into focus from behind the lenses of her dark-rimmed glasses.
"I... don't know." You answer truthfully. "To shut you up, I guess?"
The chuckle doesn't come as a surprise really, but the sound seems to shake you out from a haze, bringing along a wave of self-consciousness that washes over you when you see her lean back and fiddle awkwardly with her glasses.
Your heart rate starts to return to a more acceptable rhythm, and without it pounding in your ears and the adrenaline clouding your judgment, what you just did starts to sink in.
Slowly at first, and then, all at once.
"Oh God..."
You kissed her.
"Shit. I'm so sorry Alex." What the hell were you thinking?! "That was completely inappropriate, wasn't it?"
She tilts her head down, fiddling some more with her glasses, but even if she tries to mask her expression, you can still see the way she briefly sucks her lips into her mouth to suppress a smile and regain some of her cool composure before speaking.
"Well, I'm not used in receiving this kind of thank you," She admits, finally lifting her head to meet your gaze, and you remain breathless in that deliberately stretched pause, only resuming breathing when you see a fresh smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "But it's not like I would ever dare to complain whenever a beautiful lady kisses me."
For a moment you think that she is just trying to be polite, to make the situation less awkward, especially for you since she seems to have caught up on how easy it is to get you flustered (you are not, usually, but with her around... You honestly don't know anymore). But then you pick up on the darker shade of green her eyes have deepened into as she takes the smallest step forward, almost erasing the distance between your bodies.
It's encouraging enough.
You swallow your nerves and summon the boldness that had retreated into a corner out of cowardice for safety earlier when your ego was getting beaten.
"What if... I would do it again?"
If possible Alex's eyes grow even darker and her smile takes an unmistakable curl of intrigue at your suggestion, mingled with what can only be anticipation as she glances down at your lips again, tongue briefly darting out to wet her own.
"I guess there is only one way to find that out."
She could do it herself if she wanted.
She could lean in and press those impossibly soft lips against yours, but you understand why she doesn't, why she gives you the choice to do it. She wants to give you the power to decide under the vulnerability of your current nakedness. It's... an oddly chivalrous gesture, refreshing, even though completely unnecessary right now when your need (you have no doubt) is pretty much obvious, but you still appreciate it.
Fueled by the same desire that you see reflected in those emerald lakes, you lean in again, and once you make the first move, her hands don't hesitate to find their way around your waist, just as your arms come to rest on her broad shoulders, releasing the towel from your grasp and letting drop in your lap in favor of digging your hands in that silky dark mane.
You part your lips, feeling bold enough to be the first one to deepen the kiss and explore the compelling warmth of the inside of her mouth, tracing her bottom lip with your tongue until she grants access.
Her hands wander on your bare sides, venturing a little higher until her palms brush against the side of your breasts, and even if she doesn't cup them in her hands that whispered touch is enough to make you shiver in her arms and gasp softly in her mouth, a sound that she greedily swallows only so she can elicit a new one from you when she pulls you closer to her, urging you at the edge of the massage table.
You can't even prevent your legs from wrapping around her waist, or your hips from rolling forward, seeking contact and friction against her.
This time, when you part, you are both out of breath, cheeks flushed, lips swollen and glistening, pupils blown, and heartbeats all over the place.
Never before you have ever felt such an irrepressible pull of desire.
Never.
With anyone.
It's intoxicating.
So strong that it almost hurts, physically. So thick and abundant where you can feel it pooling between your legs that you know the rich scent of your arousal is just barely, mercifully masked by the fragrance of the massage oil clinging to your skin.
The insistence with which your body demands that kind of attention, that very specific need for release, grows tighter and impossible to ignore with each passing second. And so, at this point, you decide that there is nothing wrong in taking her up on what you now know were her real suggestions from earlier...
"You mentioned other stress relieving activities you could show me?"
The grin that is she gives you has your stomach flutter with such a delight that makes you feel dizzy.
"Yeah but... we might want to move to my bedroom for that, you know, the young woman that lives downstairs isn't very patient with other tenants making noise above her apartment."
You barely resist the urge to roll your eyes at that one.
"I have this feeling like she isn't going to complain for a while."
"Oh yeah?" She asks, and for the first time, the smirk that shapes her lips seems to have less to do with playfulness and more to do with the twinkle of seduction reflected in her stunning emerald eyes. "Are you sure about that?"
All you know is that you want her, like you have never wanted anyone before.
"Yes," You breathe against her lips. "I'm definitely sure."
There. I can never resist a teasing Alex and a younger, flustered Piper. I wanted to give a try to an AU scenario without making it necessarily smutty, although I still managed to tease something sexual even though I was trying for more humor :P Anyway, thanks for reading everyone :D