“Please, could you?” he begged. His clear baby-blues pulled at her soul.
Victoria eyed Dodd’s muscular arms, the bunched shoulders pleading for rubs, the tight back ripe for touching.
She should not. She needed to stop giving away her services for free. Now she understood the complaints of doctors and lawyers, people always asking them for advice. The complaints of singers and musicians, where family and friends expected free performances at every life event from weddings to birthdays.
Victoria had spent years getting licensed because she wanted to help people. Now she wanted her career to pay her mortgage. Moreover, she wanted her friends to respect her as a professional.
Did she ask Dodd to fix her computer every time he came over? Well, maybe. That last malware infestation had been a bitch.
Sighing, she dug out the special oil blend.
A childish grin danced over Dodd’s lips as he buried his head between his crossed arms. Victoria could do a massage like no one else.
(words 169 – originally appearing at Breathless Press 9/11/2013 for the 6/10/12 Sunday Fun – See the picture that inspired the story! – As I do not know the copyright permissions, I have not copied it here; first published on the website 9/11/2013; republished 1/13/2019)