2007-04-28: Massages Are Good For The Muscles


Pamela_icon.gif Desmond_icon.gif

Summary: Pamela and Desmond follow up on their plans to visit the hot tub. Kinkyness ensues.

Date It Happened: April 28th, 2007

Massages Are Good For The… Muscles

In a Las Vegas casino

The casino's pool is large enough to accomodate many people, but since the main thing people do at a casino is not swimming, but gambling, it is probably not as big as it >could< be. Off to the side of the pool is a hot tub, steaming away, and this is what Pamela is currently standing in front of, wondering what she's doing.
She has people claiming to be from the government coming after her because of her powers. Joey and Julie are in danger because of her. She really needs to get them out of the country, and to somewhere safe. It's >her< fault that they're in danger in the first place. And yet… If her sister hadn't died, she wouldn't have had to deal with the kids in the first place. So really it's her sister's fault. And all of these thoughts are making Pamela angry. Why should she have to be on the run because of a crazy electro-bitch? Why should she have to go through all this trouble? What did she do wrong to deserve this? She is so lost in her anger that she doesn't notice at first as her shirt and shorts begin to grow tighter, and the ground retreats from her a few inches. But soon, she controls herself, and returns to normal size.
"Oh well," she mumurs. "Maybe things will work out. In the meantime, I want to enjoy myself." So saying, she just stands and waits.

It's fortunate that Desmond doesn't arrive in time to note the changes in Pamela's size, but he doesn't arrive too long afterward. How long does it take to change into swim trunks, anyway? Not long, even when one is not rushing. Since it's a warm night, he hasn't bothered to put anything on over said shorts and comes bearing only a personalized, forest-green towel with the initials D.G.C. embroidered into one corner in cream thread. This is draped over the back of his neck, a hand gripping either end. Upon spotting Pamela — and what she's wearing — as he moves up alongside her, he cocks his head to one side and lifts an eyebrow with a faint smirk. "Either I am under-dressed or you are over-dressed," he notes. "You did say the hot tub, didn't you?"

Pam looks up as Desmond arrives, and smirks a bit guiltily. "Yes, I did. It looks like I forgot to pack a swimsuit. But after what I've been through the past few days, I'm not going to give up on the chance to relax in hot water that easily. So…" She shrugs, and then unabashedly pulls her red shirt over her head, drops it on the floor, and then shimmies out of her tight shorts, leaving those in a pile with the shirt. This leaves her in white lace bra, filled to capacity and maybe a bit beyond, and similar white panties. She turns to Desmond with her hands on her hips, grinning without a sign of embarassment, and asks, "You think this will work?"

Forgot to pack a swimsuit? In Vegas? That strikes Desmond as slightly odd, but then again two kids and a long trip can easily frazzle one and encourage forgetfulness. He doesn't comment on this phenomenon and instead watches with rapt attention as Pamela strips. His smile grows, splitting into a grin at her question. "Certainly, if they aren't cotton." Though maybe that would work for /him/ just fine. A glance is given toward the hot tub before he pulls the towel down from around his neck and drops it not far from Pamela's clothes. "Last one in?" And in he steps, hesitating only a second to adjust to the water's temperature.

Pam smiles and follows Desmond into the water. Certainly it's hot, but Pamela wanted it hot. It would make it easier on her muscles. However, she isn't too quick to cover herself up with water, making a show of going deeper and deeper, bit by bit, splashing some of the steaming liquid up onto herself and rubbing it in, digging her fingertips into her tense muscles. She groans loudly at the pain as the tension releases, as well as the good feelings of that pain being expended, and going away.
By the time she is used to the water enough to sit down, she already feels considerably relaxed, and just leans back against the wall as she sits on a step, mmming and resting her arms on the edge of the spa behind her.
"Aaahhh… This is sooo much better." She opens her eyes, which had sunk closed, to look at Desmond, feeling a new sort of tension growing inside of her at the sight of him. "You're looking good too," she offers. She pauses for a moment, as though she was going to add something else, but then she remains silent, apparently leaving it at that.

There's no tension on Desmond's end. He's just enjoying the show, having already settled on a shelf and briefly sunk into the water up to his chin, eyes rolling shut. He ought to consider getting one of these things at home. Sitting up straight again, he rests his elbows on the lip of the tub behind him and simply eyes Pamela, smirking all the while. Hmmmm. "Thank you," he chuckles at the compliment, then motions her over with one hand. "If you're tense, I'm told I give excellent backrubs." Even if he doesn't, well … who cares?

Pamela perks up at the mention of a backrub, and stands up to walk over to Desmond. And, apparently, her underwear is very much cotton. And white cotton at that. The details will be left to the imagination, but suffice to say that Pam is not exactly decent at the moment. "Sounds like a great idea to me," she says with a grin.
Once she is in front of Desmond she turns around, presenting him with a different view, before sinking back into the water. There's only enough room on his shelf for one person, so Pam practically sits in his lap, unless he has something else planned. Then she leans forward so that he can actually access her back for the backrub. She's not just doing this to tease him after all. …Not entirely, at least.

Yep, the fact that cotton is the fabric of choice has certainly worked out in Desmond's favor, and there are no complaints when he winds up with a blonde practically in his lap. As soon as she's settled, he obligingly lays his hands on Pamela's back and proceeds with the massage. While he is by no means a professional, he seems to understand what works and what doesn't, and he's actually pretty good. His movements are firm without being painful, and he's even capable of locating and working out knots. Clearly, he's done this before in some capacity. After a few moments of silence, he quietly intones, "You have very nice skin." It's punctuated by a small kiss placed between her shoulderblades.

Pam mmms and groans as Desmond's hands work over her back and shoulders, getting rid of pain she didn't even know she had. It should be evident by this point from the well-defined muscles in Pamela's back, and… All over the rest of her body, really, that she must live a fairly active life-style, or else work out often. There's plenty of muscle to unkink, and they probably feel fairly powerful. Pam's eyes are closed as she breathes heavily, but she manages to offer a dazed, "Thanks." She notices the kiss between her shoulders, and turns her head, opening her eyes, to give her masseuse a smirky sultry look, before looking forward again. "It's not easy to keep your skin smooth when you train like I do. My hands are a bit rougher from all the board breaking, and concrete shattering, but that's the price you pay…"
Pam remains silent for a little while after that, before asking, "So what do you do for a living? Car salesman? Lawyer? Something else that makes use of being a chick magnet?" She teases, of course.

That's half the fun of a massage: Desmond gets to put his hands on a good-looking woman and watch how she reacts. He doesn't cease rubbing for even a moment, constantly kneading at a steady pace. At the question of his profession, he emits a quiet snort of amusement. "I'm an actor," he states. "Stage actor, that is. Mostly Broadway." That fits into the "chick magnet" category.

Pamela hmms at the news, rolling her shoulders as she feels those fingers digging into her muscles and loosening them up. Such skilled hands (professional or not)! "I've seen a few plays before, but I've never been much for stage acting." She quickly adds, "Not that I don't find it enjoyable, but I am a woman of small patience, and great energy. I find it hard to sit still for too long at a stretch, because I feel like I should be >doing< something… Still, if I ever get back to New York, I'll see about catching one of your shows. I liked 'Heaven Can Wait' when I saw it. Know it? Story about a boxer who dies before he can have his final match? Gets sent back to Earth by Angels, in the body of a millionaire, and tries to resume his boxing career, much to the dismay of everyone who knew the millionaire before he was possessed? Doesn't help that he's the only one who can see the Angels, who continue to advise him, so when he's talking to them, he comes across as a lunatic. It was pretty amusing."
She finally decides that, as good as this feels, she's up for something new. Besides, she's liable to fall asleep if she lets Desmond keep going, given how relaxed she's become. So she turns around in her seat to face her masseuse, and straddles Desmond's lap, looking down at the actor from her perch. His face should be just about chest level with Pam now, given how tall she is. "I've had enough soaking for now… How about we go upstairs to your room and you can show me what other skills you have, aside from gambling, massaging, and acting. I'm impressed so far, and everything, but I feel there are >depths< to you…" She traces a finger along the side of Desmond's face, if allowed, and down across his chest. "…That have not yet been explored."

"Mm-hmm, I know the story of 'Heaven Can Wait'. It's not bad." But who needs to talk about stage plays? Hell, who needs to talk at all now? Desmond, of course, has no objections to the shifting of positions, and definitely no objections to the suggestion. "Well, then, if you're feeling that adventurous." A quick glance downward before he adds, "Will you be needing the use of my towel as cover?" Obviously, she can't go out just in her underthings.

Pamela grins and says, "Might be wise. I'd put on my clothes over these, but something tells me they'd quickly become no more concealing than what I have on right now." She then leans her head in and plants a kiss on Desmond's lips, seperating from him briefly, and then going in for a deeper kiss. From the way her arms start to wrap around him, if they don't get moving soon, they might not make it to Desmond's room. Luckily (or unfortunately, depending on one's perspective) someone's teenage boys barge into the swimming area loudly, talking about some death metal band, and swearing more than is appropriate for kids their age, so Pamela comes to her senses and breaks away from the kiss. Turning and standing she heads over to the edge of the hot tub, takes her time getting out, and wrapping herself up in the towel, and then gathers her clothes and looks towards Desmond as if to say, 'Are you coming or not?'
The teenage boys, aside from saying, "Whoah" repeatedly, and staring, have gone quiet and look between each other nervously, not sure what to do.

Once again, there is no protest to the kisses, and Desmond is both grateful and rather disappointed at the interruption of the teenage boys. When Pamela moves away and wraps herself up in the towel, he, too, rises from the water and climbs out, wringing out what he can from his trunks. The teenagers are given very little attention save for a glance as the pair pass them, Desmond's arm loosely and casually wrapped around Pamela's waist. Even then, the only acknowledgement they are given is a small nod and an uttered greeting and farewell of, "Boys." Aw, poor teenagers. Maybe when they're older, they'll have such luck as he.

Being none too unaccustomed to the ways of some women who come on so strongly, once his room is reached, it is apparent that Desmond spent some time locking away and stashing his valuables before descending to the hot tub. There will be no robbing him blind tonight.

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