Harriet had been given a voucher for her birthday. It was for “the full works” at the new Turkish baths which had opened nearby. Having never had a Turkish bath before, Harriet’s curiosity was definitely piqued. But she was anxious: typical worries crowded in concerning whether she was going to have to strip naked in front of staff and other bathers, exactly what would be done to her. These were titillating anxieties, but anxieties nonetheless.
Thus when she arrived at the newly refurbished baths she was delighted to be distracted from her nerves by the wonderful décor: Even in the entrance foyer she felt transported to exotic climes by the terracotta painted walls and the jewelled glass lampshades. There were beautiful rugs on the floor and faint unfamiliar music played.
Her booking was confirmed: The full works.
“What does that involve?” she asked. The receptionist explained in a bored fashion, flipping open a handy threefold leaflet to illustrate. This showed photographs of the various rooms inside, and the splendour of them made a thrill run up Harriet’s spine. there was a lot of steam, and an ample supply of shining muscleage on the part of the staff. the female recipients looks very happy, and indeed as if they had just had The Full Works. This was going to be a GOOD birthday present
She was handed a bathwrap, long and very soft with a fringe at the bottom.
“Get yourself changed into your bikini, put this on, and stash your things in a locker” said the receptionist distractedly, before sinking back into her chair and resuming nail filing duties.
Through a bead curtain she found the changing area and lockers, and changed into a bikini she had bought in anticipation of a holiday which never materialised. It had never been in the water, let alone on a sandy beach. This was its first outing.
She sat there for a few moments, being studiously ignored by the receptionist, until eventually she decided to try her luck and push through the second beaded curtain. This led her to a room which was entirely lined in marble. There were marble benches around the edge, a marble slab table in the centre, and little fountains falling into marble bowls set in the walls It was very warm and humid. After a few moments she felt her long, wavy hair sticking to her neck and she shook herself out of the wrap and sat down to wait.
A few moments later a door at the far end of the room opened. Harriet did not immediately notice over the gentle music, water and steam noises. She was looking the other way, in a sleepy haze when the man put a gentle hand on her shoulder. Oddly, she did not jump at this.
“Hello. My name is Akbatu. I am going to bathe you today”
Harriet felt her heart begin to thump. It banged so hard behind her ribcage that the little pendant which hung on the outside must surely be jumping too.
Akbatu could see her reaction: “Do not worry. I am very well trained. I bathe many women. I am a professional”
His voice was as gentle as olive oil soap, and seemed to slither all over her in much the same way.
He indicated the little silver pendant around her neck, keeping his eyeline on it, and therefore resting in her bufty cleavage. It didn’t mind that. “I’m content here. I don’t need to go to the left or right. I have reached the valley of bliss” it seemed to say
“You must remove this. It might become damaged. I can be very vigorous”
It goes without saying that Harriet agreed instantly. She put her arms up behind her head to unclip it, causing Akbatu to start back as her stupendous bosomage lifted upwards.
“Allow me” he said, his voice actually a teeny bit huskier than heretofore.
She half turned away from him and, breathing heavily, he lifted her hair out of the way and unclipped the chain. He lifted the chain upwards, but the heat and damp caused the pendant to stick to her skin…
Akbatu had NO option but to reach round and slip his fingers against her skin and delicately lift the pendant away.
Actually he had a LOT of other options; (he could have asked her to do it herself, for example) but none of them occurred to him at that moment, and had they done so he would have dismissed them out of hand. He also felt utterly obliged not to hurry the operation, so his fingers followed the advice of his eyeline, and went straight to the pillowy centre. They were against the skin between her volumpty heavers for rather longer than strictly necessary; To Harriet, it had felt like an eternity, but then she had always been keen on this kind of eternity.
Unlike the real thing, this simulacrum of eternity finally ended, with the little silver pendant being pried from her damp skin and placed on a little marble shelf beside one of the fountains.
Akbatu asked her to lie down on the big marble slab. Harriet did so, feeling rather exposed. Which is entirely appropriate as she was almost completely exposed. But the steam, warmth, and gentle music worked its magic and she closed her eyes and began to seriously relax. After a few moments she began to notice little soft noises of activity beside her. Then a sensation of extraordinary gentleness started to spread all over her belly She opened her eyes to see Akbatu standing over her, an inflated pillowcase in his hands. He was squeezing it gently, and a slow cascade of tiny bubbles was extruding from the fabric, oozing down and slithering all over her tummy.
“Olive oil bubbles” Akbatu murmured “Very soft on your skin”
They were, and he moved the pillowcase up and down over her body so that all of it was covered. It was as fine as thistledown, and as the tiny bubbles popped, Harriet experienced a tingling sensation which was, she decided, Sensational.
She opened her eyes again to see Akbatu with his back to her, a steel bowl in his hand,hurriedly sloshing water from the fountain all over himself. He turned around, his thin T-shirt soaking and stuck to the architecture of his belly. This time he had in his hand a massage cloth, a coarse-woven flannel.
“Relax” he said, leaning forward to say it quietly into her ear. “I am going to make your skin even softer”
She closed her eyes, not exactly relaxed, and felt Akbatu’s expert fingers sliding over her legs. He was strong, and she could feel his muscular fingers moulding to the shape of her limbs as they rubbed the flannel upwards from her feet and ankles. His efforts seemed to push the blood and the sensations upward, intensifying what she already felt in her torso.
Abruptly he stopped. She turned, feeling suddenly adrift. he had his back to her again and was frantically sloshing water down himself again.
Dripping wet he turned round, a slight smile playing on his face. It looked to be enjoying itself and invited twinkly eyes to join it.
He returned to massaging her legs, and as his hands reached higher Harriet found her levels of relaxation being challenged, but didn’t mind.
Akbatu seemed particularly concerned about making her inner thighs very soft: he spent a long time massaging them, before stopping again to slosh himself again with water. When he turned back he missed out the small are covered by her bikini and moved his strong, steady hands onto her abdomen. This seemed to focus all her sensations into a smaller and smaller space…but she doubted Akbatu would notice: it was a place most men could not find, even if they knew it existed.
Eventually he said “You will need to undo your strap before turning away and sloshing more cold water about. He turned round to find she had done as asked and he began to massage the skin of her chest and shoulders, his fingers deftly slipping around and close to her nicely spread mammalumpties, without actually touching. Harriet thought this the most exciting thing possible, and the friends who had clubbed together to buy her this gift “to help her relax” would have been disappointed to learn that every nerve ending was tingling. Some tingled in a quite minor fashion, on the periphery of the action – toes, knees and so on only contributing in a very small way to the overall effect. Others closer to home (so to speak) felt as though they would explode out of her skin. Which was not as much like a horror film as Harriet would have expected.
Akbatu was finding his experience in synchrony; he managed to maintain totally professional standards with his massaging whilst at the same time some of his nerve endings were becoming increasingly distracted. His regular dousing with cold water having only slightly delayed the inevitable, it was now obvious that the many women he had massaged in the past had scarcely prepared him for this. For reasons of professionalism, as well as preference, he did not wish to turn away to the water tap again. What an exquisite dilemma! As he agonised about this delicious
problem, Harriet opened her eyes to see Akbatu’s powerful torso close beside her. He was clad in a soaking T-shirt which clung to every muscle, and for a moment she simply savoured that view, before noticing how it also clung to non-muscular things as well. So she savoured that view as well.
There was a long pause, and then Akbatu leaned close to her and whispered in her ear “It is time to come through for the massage” and indicated another room.
Harriet was about to reply that she thought he was going to scrub her back with the flannel and olive oil bubbles as well, but just at that moment all the buzzing nerve endings, especially the ones within the bikini zone, were over-ruling her, and she nodded, flashing a meaningful smile at Akbatu.
The massage room was lit only by a red-shaded lantern with an extreme energy-saving bulb. It shed only the light required to locate another human being, and seemed to assume that once located, all further progress would be made using tactile systems. It worked.
Harriet laid down on the soft massage couch. She had forgotten by accident or design to reconnect her bikini top strap. This meant a small step was bypassed as Akbatu, falling back on his years of training as a masseur, plus natural instincts, was able to slide his oiled hands all over Harriet with almost no awkward pauses.
After a little while he peeled off his soaking T-shirt, and Harriet was able to confirm just HOW accurately the wet fabric had demarcated his anatomy.
She also discovered that, whether through his professional training or simple dedication, he understood exactly where her nerve endings were located. Indeed, Akbatu was a real expert. he gave Harriet The Full Works.