Massage

“Where does all this passion come from?”

“Repression.”

Drew cocked his head and frowned. Instead of answering him, Brigid took his forearm in her hands and stroked his skin from wrist to elbow adding pressure with each pass. She cupped his elbow, lifted his extended arm until it rested on her shoulder and continued her gentle massage up his bicep and tricep.

Drew’s sharp features relaxed as tenstion drained into her strong, nimble hands. His lips parted and his breath slowed and deepened.

Brigid watched as each part of his body loosened and slackened: his face, head lolling on a limp neck, then his shoulders dropped.

Photo: oO-Rein-Oo