She asks me for my preference for oil, then any areas of concern. I ask her to focus on my neck and shoulders because they’re always tense from being hunched over a laptop all the time.
Once I take off my robe and lie down on the bed, she starts. I hear some rocklike clacking, and then smooth, warm, heavenly pressure as the stones are slid over the knots I didn’t know I had. Oh… Yeah… It’s so much better than a regular massage. The stones are warmer than a masseuse’s hands, and the heat relaxes all the tension from me. When she’s done with a section of my body, she leaves a toasty stone or two resting on it, and my muscles go even gooier.
I sigh softly and close my eyes. Emmett’s still a jerk, but this makes him less of one. It’s probably the most luxurious, pampering experience of my life. It’s an order of magnitude better than the spa day Sasha and I had to celebrate our graduation from Wharton and starting at GrantEm.
The eighty minutes pass in what seems like ten. When my masseuse gently taps my shoulder, I realize I’ve fallen asleep. I blink, then smile sheepishly.
“How are you feeling?” she asks.
I note her nametag. “I’m great. Thanks, Cat.”
“My pleasure.”
“Is Emmett done?”
“I think so. But take your time. He’s probably in the resting area with some herbal tea. He likes to do that after a session.”
She leaves, and I sit up slowly. Wow. My head is much clearer. And there’s no tension anywhere in my body. I didn’t know it was possible to feel this good.
I put on my robe and pull out my phone. This the perfect time to take a quick selfie with a big, happy smile and send it to Dad later. I should bring him here when he visits for Xavier’s wedding. Just thinking about his being this relaxed and happy makes me smile.
I step out and make my way to the changing room. As I open my locker and begin to get dressed, I can overhear a couple of women gossiping on the other side.
“So who is he?” A breathless inquiry.
“Emmett Lasker. He comes by once or twice a month, depending.”
I breathe more quietly.
“I thought he was a model when he walked by.” She sounds like she’s about to fan herself.
You and me both. I adjust my bra for better comfort.
“He’s so perfect. That body.” The other one sounds like she’s swooning. “Every time he makes a reservation, I get excited. He always comes during my shift.”
“Maybe he’s coming here for you.”
“Oh, please. He probably doesn’t even know my name.”
She shouldn’t be that forlorn. Getting on Emmett’s radar isn’t always a positive thing.
“Ken’s so lucky. He gets to massage that body.”
I don’t know if Ken feels lucky. But I’d like to touch that body again, if I could also somehow make Emmett not know I was the one touching it.
Oh my God, I sound like a creep…
“Seriously. Emmett Lasker won’t make a reservation if Ken isn’t available.”
Ken must be really good. I should book him for Dad.
The two sigh and gab about my boss some more. As I finish dressing, I’m more or less forced to agree with every gushing word. If you don’t work for him, he’s pretty perfect. As a matter of fact, he gave me what I’d like to do to relax—an upscale brunch and massage. It’s like he knew exactly what I’d love.
He wants to sleep with you again! Sasha’s voice crows in my head.
If Emmett were just some guy I’d met, like Rick, I would’ve said yes to getting to know him on a personal level—including getting horizontal with him—while counting down my last days at the firm. I already know the man’s great at sex, too. Not just great, but The Best.
But something’s holding me back. Not all of my misgivings are due to his being my boss. I slip on flip-flops and wonder what’s making me hesitate. I didn’t second-guess myself when I applied to Harvard, or the position at Goldman Sachs, or Wharton or GrantEm. They were the best, and I wasn’t going to settle for second best. It might have make me appear arrogant, but I knew what I was worth and capable of.