The Quarterback Sees a Masseur

Here’s a sample from the beginning of The Quarterback Sees a Masseur, about a college jock getting a “happy ending” from a masseuse who turns out to be a taciturn indigenous masseur instead! It’s part of The Native American Masseur series!

 

Nathan excitedly walked into the spa, laughing with his buddies to hide how nervous he was. He felt out-of-place because of his clothes — he had only packed workout clothes, his jersey and the suit Coach made them wear on the bus from Nome. So he wore the suit, minus the jacket and tie, just a button-down shirt and slacks. It wasn’t what anyone else wore to the only spa in Anchorage.

The game was tomorrow. The state football championship match promised to be a close one, and it was all anyone on the local radio talked about. Nathan was nervous about it. As the quarterback on his college team, Nathan was held responsible for the entire team’s performance. It wasn’t fair — he wasn’t even the team’s official captain, that was Roger.

Nathan and the other players all stopped short when they walked into the spa. Nathan was nervous. Why be nervous? He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he felt tremendously out-of-place. This was a sumptuously decorated spa for new age types; there were crystal skulls, something labeled an “aromatherapy alcove” and pretty women in kimonos walking around.

This was not like any part of Anchorage Nathan had ever seen. He grew up in Texas, and had gotten a scholarship to the University of Northern Alaska. Everyone in his hometown thought it was a joke; it was precisely the kind of joke Nathan might have made. But it wasn’t a joke. Nathan was good, just not good enough to get a scholarship to a major school.

But he still loved the sport of football, and he was proud of himself for taking the team to the state championships. Now they had spent a whole day on a rickety bus coming to Anchorage, and everyone was sore, exhausted and too drained to even think about getting pumped up for tomorrow.

So that was why Coach Alupi sent them to the spa to get a massage, to get them in tiptop shape for the game. He even paid for it out of his own pocket.

“Hello, boys, you must be the UNA Bears?” asked one of the Japanese women.

“Yes, ma’am,” Nathan said. He blushed a little at his Texan accent, which had never really seemed all that thick until he moved to Fairbanks, Alaska, where he sounded like a movie caricature of a hillbilly, at least in his own mind.

All of the women who worked here were young, pretty Japanese women. Nathan wondered if Roger had been right — Roger was a linebacker, team captain and the one who had been joking for the entire ride to the spa about how he was going to fuck his masseuse. “Coach wouldn’t have sent us here for a massage. Coach Walton gives massages. I bet this place gives happy endings. If the masseuses are Asian, that’s it, that’s proof. They’ll give you a handjob for free after the massage. They don’t even think of it as sex in Asia, it’s just massaging your dick. Coach Alupi probly-“

“Shut up, Roger, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Coach Walton couldn’t give us each a massage. It would take like all night and all day tomorrow,” Nathan had said. Coach Walton was one of the assistant coaches, and it was he who usually massaged any player who needed it before a game.

But Roger insisted, and the rest of the team had remained noncommittal. At the time, Nathan thought Roger was just talking trash; he always claimed to have girls begging for his cock, but Nathan knew it was all nonsense.

Now, though, he wasn’t so sure. These Japanese women were beautiful. There weren’t even hardly any Asians in Alaska, he thought, these must be a large portion of the city’s Asian population. He nervously smiled at them.

“Your coach called us boys, he said you each need a full massage from a licensed masseuse,” she said. Her accent was mild, but noticeable. She pursed her lips and smiled. “That means you’ll have to take turns, we only have a dozen licensed masseuses. Could I interest any of you in a chemical peel while you wait? It helps your skin-“

You could interest me in somethin’, but not that…

How will this massage be ending, miss? Happily?

The team laughed. No one really listened to the woman, who blushed and scurried away after finishing her upselling spiel. Nathan felt bad about his teammates’ rudeness, but there was little he could do — since he was new, and he wasn’t Alaskan, the team by and large didn’t care what he thought about anything.

I’m so horny I might blow my load even if she don’t give a happy ending.

Then the masseuses started. They came one by one from a doorway leading to the spa area in the back, and they each took a player by the hand. First it was Roger, the team captain, a burly roughneck’s son with colorful tattoos covering his broad shoulders. He smiled a dimpled grin at the Japanese woman who led him away, then made a masturbation gesture with one hand, making the rest of the team laugh along with him. The Japanese woman blushed as though not sure if the team laughed at her or not, and disappeared with him in the next room.

The next masseuse was another beautiful Japanese woman, this one a little older, but with delicate features and a soft touch. She caressed Tulimaq’s arm, smiling at his nervous shudder, as she led him away. Then came a trio of masseuses, who each led a player away.

That meant Nathan would be next, since they were simply grabbing the player nearest the door, and Nathan was now closest. He now had a sinking suspicion that Roger had been right — this looked rather brothel-y, now that he thought about it, and these women had a flirtatious look as they came into the room to gather up their player.

Then the door opened. The person who came out was a man, a tall, broad-shouldered man with long, straight black hair. He had the gruff, angular face of an Indian, and he was short but squat, strong, looking like an oil rig worker who had gotten lost.

A few people tittered, and Nathan felt the entire team watch him. Someone mumbled something low about Nathan turning gay, and Nathan blushed.

For a moment, Nathan’s heart sank. Did he have such terrible luck that he got the one masseuse here who was not a sexy young Japanese woman? No, he decided, this man must be a customer on his way out.

But then the Indian man stopped in front of Nathan and raised his eyebrows. “Hello,” he said. “My name is Patuk, I’m going to be your masseur today.”

Nathan’s heart thumped. The team oohed as though he was getting in trouble. Nathan stood and blushed. Would it be weird to decline? Would it come across as racist? Would it look like he was a pervert who had just come here to ogle the pert young Japanese flesh? Was this a prank the rest of the team had put together?

But Patuk had such an authoritarian vibe that when he turned to leave, Nathan instinctually followed. Patuk’s broad shoulder muscles rippled beneath his plain white t-shirt.

Beyond the door — the hoots and laughter of his team fading into the background — Nathan followed Patuk down a long hallway. He saw his teammates getting massages in small rooms as they passed. This place no longer looked brothely, he thought. There were posters outlining the major muscle groups. Another poster advertised free mammograms. There was a portly white man giving a massage in one room.

Nathan was both gladdened and disappointed to learn there would be no “happy ending”. He would have been nervous if he thought it was genuinely going to happen, but he was still disappointed that it wasn’t; of course, he was overjoyed this rough Indian masseur wouldn’t be doing it.

They stopped at a massage room, and Nathan walked in. It was warm and smelled of incense. This was definitely Patuk’s assigned room, Nathan decided, as it was clearly Indian — there was Inuit symbolism all over the place, a distinctive quilt folded up on a chair on one corner, a crudely carved statue of a polar bear, and a beautiful painting of a stone inuksuk towering over a coastal scene.

“Take off your clothes and lay on your belly on the table,” Patuk said. His voice lacked all the grace and delicacy of the Japanese woman out front. He wasn’t even looking at Nathan; he just shut the door (which Nathan wished he hadn’t done, none of the other rooms were shut) and lit a pile of braided branches. Then he put out the flame so the embers continued to fume, filling the room with the scent of sweetgrass.

Now Nathan was getting very nervous. Coach wanted them to do this to be relaxed before the game, but it was having the opposite effect. The stiffness in his neck now seemed like a very minor problem.

“Take off your clothes,” barked Patuk, who glared at Nathan. Then he added, “Sir.”

Nathan had always been an obedient boy. That was just how he was raised back in Texas, and as an athlete, he was used to being naked in front of strangers in the locker room. So he quickly took off the button-down shirt and pants, then got on the table. He still wore his underwear, hoping that Patuk didn’t expect him to be fully naked.

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