Millie

Our nice gentle evening took a strange and competitive turn. Combative, even.  said something he took personally and he was determined to prove me wrong. It was my fault I think. I was sitting there slagging off men like he was one of my girlfriends instead of, you know, a man. In a way I was egging it on.

I suppose it kept both the conversation and my thoughts away from the phone call. My lawyers did some digging and found out that my father’s under some kind of financial investigation. I don’t know if that’s why he contacted me but it almost doesn’t matter. Whatever he wants out of me can’t be good.

So yes, that made me tense. Not only did I drink a bit too much (not a good idea given how little I drink in general, I’m a lightweight) I was looking for a distraction. Heh. I got one.

Justin declared that he was going to prove me wrong. He threw out all manner of things he could do that I wouldn’t have to reciprocate. I batted it off and told him he was being ridiculous. It was too late for that though. The bee was well and truly in his bonnet. It didn’t matter how many ideas I shot down; he immediately came back with another. I was starting to see why he’s so successful. He’s tenacious and quick witted, always got a comeback.

He’s got quite a square face - when his jaw is set he can look quite forceful. In other circumstances he could use it to frightening effect. But between the blue eyed stare and the pursed lips and the folded arms I was always going to cave. I like to think of myself as a confident woman, not easy to dissuade, but… what can I say? He called my bluff and I blinked first. As I’ve said before he’s got a disturbing habit of appearing to look right through me. It throws me off.

I’m still too bewildered about the way the conversation went to remember how we decided on the back rub. Suffice to say Justin’s altruistic gesture was to give me the massage I’d been complaining about missing out on. (Too many bloody people in the spa taking up the slots). He claimed to be good at it. Then he pointed out how unlikely it was I’d ever have to return this particular favour.

I cannot explain how I allowed this to happen but I did. I agreed. It’s insane yet true.

I don’t understand what I was thinking. All it was in aid of was a silly debate. It’s not normal for me to allow a man I haven’t known for very long so much physical contact (non-professionally, anyway). I was tipsy but not out of it; my brain was in working order. Ben would throw a fit if he knew that less than twenty four hours after breaking up with him I was baring skin to a rock star.  It was stupid to do it purely as a chance to disprove my bitterness.  All in all there was no good reason for me to get this massage. I honestly can’t come up with any better explanation than that I did it to shut him up.

Public service announcement: that’s not a good reason to take your shirt off with a guy. 

**

Justin

My intentions weren’t exactly honourable – I was trying to win a dumb argument – but they weren’t dishonourable either. I’m still not sure how we got to that point but I’d accepted the challenge. I was going to see it through.

I did the thing right, too. I moved the candles into the bedroom so she’d have a relaxing smell. I did my best to arrange towels and blankets like they would in a spa, so she could lie between them and be covered as needed. I told her to forget I was me and imagine she was there. I faithfully promised no peeking. I assured her that if she got uncomfortable she only needed to say.

The entire time she wore this dubious expression, but I never got the feeling she’d back out. Now I think about it, it’s weird she agreed – especially after the bathroom thing I noticed the other night. Maybe she was as determined as I was to see the spat through? Maybe she really did miss getting her massage earlier? I don’t know. Either way she kicked me out of the room so she could get herself into position.

Heterosexual men across the planet would shake their heads if they heard me claim I wasn’t thinking about how naked the supermodel was but it’s true.

We’d agreed on me sticking to her back and lower legs (neutral areas), so she wasn’t wearing a shirt or pants. Even so I couldn’t see anything you wouldn’t see from a swimsuit. She was covered from waist to knee by blankets anyway so I didn’t know what she had or hadn’t kept on under there. I didn’t wonder because I was focused on the job at hand. I didn’t just have a point to prove I had a moral principle to uphold.

I wasn’t merely going to show her I could do something nice and not require payback. Oh no. I was going to make it so damn good she’d have to practically bow in submission.

Millie

I was about to call the whole thing off. I felt stupid, nervous and uncomfortable. I even wildly wondered if it was all a rouse to get his hands on me.

In hindsight what stopped me was how chilled he was. Being a model I’m familiar with all the various gazes that people will direct at me. People are fairly shameless about the way they size me up. I don’t think there’s any possible motive behind somebody checking out my body that I can’t recognise at a hundred paces. Justin didn’t exhibit any of that and it reassured me enough to proceed.

In a weird way I think maybe it’s about power? People can pretend to be as enlightened and above interpersonal politics as they like but nobody’s immune. Ultimately a lot of dynamics are about power. You don’t need to be domineering but people do listen more to those they perceive as authoritative.

There’s no better (or harder) way to learn that than going from having it all to having none. It’s a tough one to swallow when a world that used to be your oyster suddenly doesn’t care if you’re still breathing.

The ways people normally treat me, from awe to jealousy, all give me an advantage. Even when people underestimate me or treat me as a threat it’s a card I can play. Justin doesn’t do any of that. Doesn’t fancy me, doesn’t care about my background, has too much wealth and success himself to be impressed by mine – which just puts his personality up against mine. I think in the balance his wins? I don’t know.

I only know that when he starts talking somehow he’s more persuasive than the voice in the back of my head. Hence the massage.

I can be a grown up and admit that once the initial apprehension wore off I was semi-glad. He was no professional but I’ll allow him his boast that he’s good at it. For all my reticence, it was nice to be touched. His fingers stroked up and down my back at a leisurely pace, in smooth motions that nonetheless kneaded into my muscles. When he ran a flat palm down the length of my spine it was like I could feel the tension sinking out of my body and disappearing down into the mattress somewhere.

It was that point I started to think… well, maybe Justin was right. The men in my life haven’t been stellar but maybe I was being too harsh. Couldn’t admit that though.

“This okay?”

I was almost cross with him for breaking me out of my reverie. I’d been happy to focus on his hands. I could feel the calluses on his fingers – I imagine from playing guitar – but they weren’t unpleasant. The slight roughness made for an agreeable friction.

“Mmmhmm.”

My eyes were shut but I thought I heard a grin in his next words. “I’ll take that as a yes. You ready to admit I’m right yet?”

“No. I might allow you to stand as an exception but the rest of your species are still arseholes.”

“Heh.” His chuckle was lower pitched than usual. “You might not believe it, but honestly some of my favourite moments in relationships have been stuff like this.”

“I bet they ended up with you getting yours too, though,” I said.

“Plenty, but not always. I mean, I’ll be honest, in the friends with benefits kind of thing we were talking about then I probably wouldn’t, but when you’re with somebody you really like… it’s like a closeness thing, I guess.”

Damn him it made sense. I definitely started to feel like I was onto a loser. True to his word, when he told me to turn over so he could work the other side of my legs he even held the sheet up like a real masseuse. Couldn’t see me flash anything (I was still wearing shorts so quite covered, but he wasn’t even trying it). Thus far there was not a single sign of personal gain from his side. Then again, I was getting a nice massage so maybe losing was winning.

At the same time though a nagging voice in the back of my head asked why I’ve never had that. Neither what he was doing physically nor what he was describing emotionally.

Even though it was a platonic favour it was slow and all about me. It was sensual yet not about sex. I haven’t experienced that before. I’ve had good sex and bad sex, but the kind of connection Justin’s talking about wasn’t a feature. What they did was done to get the favour returned. There was nothing like this, touching me to soothe me and without an agenda.

In fact the more I’ve been thinking about that over the past few days the more I’m starting to feel like every arena of my life is like that. Family, men, work, I’m a bloody status symbol not a person with needs.

Hmm. Now starting to wonder if that explains what followed…

**

Justin

My victory was assured. She’d relaxed under my hands, like her flesh was melting beneath my fingertips. I was pretty smug.

In a way I was enjoying it too. There was the sense of self-satisfaction you get when somebody’s appreciating what you’re doing. I also liked the rhythmic motion of it. It’s hypnotic and mind-clearing. All my bruised ego over Felicity and my annoyance at the paparazzi was disappearing along with the tension in her body (she had a ton of knots in her shoulders). My arm muscles were working it out like they would be if I’d hit the weights.

It’s not like giving a good looking woman a rub down would ever be the worst thing, is it? Her skin was inhumanly smooth to touch, like she spends a lot of time looking after it. I guess she would. Her body is her livelihood like mine is my voice; you look after your asset.

Next I had her flip over to finish up on the front side of her legs. That was when things got weird.

Her foot was in my lap. I was lazily running my hands up and down her shin, and my mind drifted. All extraneous thought dropped away. Nothing left but the working of my fingers. Whatever I was doing she liked it though. Every so often she’d let out these quiet little happy noises.

In fact I blame her because they totally sounded like sex noises.

No I can’t. It wasn’t her. I’m just dirty.

The problem was that by then my head was blank. Making that association with no other distractions got me locked onto the topic. My brain made this jump and suddenly things were now about sex. I’m a red blooded American male. I had a partially nude very attractive woman lying out in front of me. I totally started envisioning naughty stuff.

And what do you think is gonna happen if a red blooded American male starts having protracted thoughts about moving the massage to other places? Especially one who just got ditched and is probably about to have a sexual drought? An embarrassing situation, that’s what.

Thank God her eyes were closed but it was a problem.  It wouldn’t be a big deal any other time – I’m not thirteen for fuck’s sake, and this shit happens – but her foot was in my lap. She only had to move slightly and she would’ve found it without looking. On set when we were being made to grind all over each other I’d have an excuse but this was different. In this situation it’s more personal and you can’t blame it on the mechanics. Millie’s the kind of woman who’d get uncomfortable with you after something like that.

I was locked in that awkward mental cycle where the desperate attempts to think about something else were only making me think about it more. Things were not dying down. So as a suave sophisticated man of the world how do you think I dealt with this?  Smoothly? Discreetly? Calmly?

Fuck no. I dropped her foot, muttered some shit about leaving her alone to get dressed and high-tailed it. Real slick.

Then I stood out in the living room of the suite, torn about what to do. I didn’t want her to see but it would look too weird if I left completely. She’d question that. But I would’ve felt way too creepy about going anywhere to take care of it. I already felt like a little bit of a sleaze for even thinking all that, but doing something about it (even by myself) would’ve solidified it. It would’ve been taking advantage of her trust. Seemed like there was nothing left to do but arrange myself on the couch to disguise it as best I could. Small consolation – at least I wore jeans. It was less obvious in those.

**

Millie

I’m still lying awake unable to sleep because I am so effing embarrassed. I hadn’t properly registered the noises I was starting to let out but I think Justin must have twigged, because he swiftly legged it out of the room.

He didn’t stick around for very long after that. There was a bare minimum of a quick coffee to mask the fact that he was running, but he made his excuses at the first polite opportunity. I went and had my bath then went to bed but it’s no good.

For all my talk about guys and their self-interest, in the end I was the one lying there imagining using him for my own ends. It wasn’t his fault. He remained within bounds and true to his word requested nothing in return. In a messed up way, I think that was what let me go there. He proved himself trustworthy and I was tipsy enough to let down my defences.

It wasn’t really about him, even, my fantasy was kind of faceless. Doesn’t matter - Justin was still the one in the room with me so it’s him who’s copped the awkwardness. It’s my own fault. I’d taken my thoughts into that vulnerable place and after the earlier discussion it was all being filtered through a prism of sex. Even though Justin was platonic, no different than if I’d got my originally planned massage in the spa, I suppose he was unwittingly hitting a nerve. It was only too easy to start fantasising about, shall we say, upgrading the experience.

I very much doubt I’m the only woman to ever imagine the great Justin Timberlake putting his hands in all the right places. He’s got a few million fans who’ve probably thought about it. Even so I doubt many have managed it in a less appropriate scenario. I let my mind wander too far away from me, started showing signs of it and made him uncomfortable in the process. In a way I feel like I’ve taken advantage of him. That sounds insane, like I could be taking advantage of someone in his position, but somehow I just feel like I did wrong.

Honestly. That massage was such a bloody stupid idea. I wish somebody could explain to me why the hell I agreed to it.