I’d only been back a couple of days and the golden beaches and palm trees were already a distant memory, replaced with the vivid immediacy of laundry piles, unread messages, and a depleted bank account.

It was Sunday; the dreaded Monday morning meeting beginning to occupy more of my mental energy already. It wasn’t that I needed to prepare for it–it was its mere existence that bothered me. I was lying on the couch fantasizing about quitting my job when I heard a knock on the door.

My immediate response was panic–it was still early morning and I was naked beneath my robe–but when I peeked out the window and saw it was April, my brother’s wife, I relaxed a little.

“Hi,” I said, opening the door. “Is everything okay?”

“Sure!” April said. “How was the trip?”

“Oh, uh, great thanks!” Her question and sudden appearance caught me off guard. We weren't great friends, but after emigrating to the UK from France to marry my brother, I knew her social network was basically non-existent. She smiled and I smiled back. As much as I was enjoying my alone time, I had to admit that April was warm, friendly, and surprisingly funny – the kind of person who could make anyone feel comfortable. “Would you like to come in?”

Five minutes later and we were in the kitchen, her sipping a mug of chamomile, me unpacking the last bag from the trip, just a few odds and ends I hadn’t bothered to sort through yet. Somewhere in the bottom, I remembered I’d tucked away a souvenir for her – a little trinket I thought she’d like.

“What’s that?” she asked, looking at the elegantly shaped glass bottle I was lowering gently to the table.

“Oh, this?” I asked, “I think it’s some fancy massage oil. I actually won it in a raffle at one of those resort events. I had no idea what I was entering.” I shrugged, laughing “I barely even know what to do with it.”

April’s face lit up as she took the bottle from me, turning it over to read the label, sounding out the syllables in her luxurious French accent. It wasn’t a brand I’d heard of, but April looked impressed.

“Sarah, this is the real deal! Look, let me show you.” She pulled up her phone, quickly searching it up. Sure enough, the bottle was expensive, made with all kinds of essential oils, Japanese Sakura, and judging by the price, the tears of unicorns. It promised to be the ultimate in luxury and relaxation.

“Shame there's no hunky men to try it out on,” I joked, but April frowned.

“A man? You do not need a man for this.”

“Well,” I said, feeling a little awkward that my joke hadn’t landed. “That’s true, I guess.”

“We should try it out,” she said excitedly.

I laughed, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun! You said yourself you’re stressed about coming back to reality. And I took a massage course back in college. I’d love to give it a whirl, and this seems like the perfect excuse.”

For a moment, I wasn’t sure. The idea was sweet but… a little weird. But April was looking at me with such an encouraging, playful grin. I sighed, deciding why not? It was just April, after all. Practically family.

Upstairs in my room, she closed the door behind us, gesturing toward my bed. “All right, lay down and relax,” she said.

“Um…” I looked down at my robe. “Hold on, I'm not…ummm…wearing anything under here. Let me–”

“Perfect,” April smiled.

I hesitated, not exactly feeling prepared to strip in front of her.

She sighed, rolling her eyes playfully. “Sarah, it’s just me. Don’t be ridiculous. I am not some perverted man. It’s just me. Nothing to worry about. Just take off your clothes, lie down, and relax.”

A wave of awkwardness hit me, but her tone was so casual, so matter-of-fact, that to disagree would have made me look overly sensitive. I found myself nodding along, turning around and letting my robe drop to the floor, exposing my completely naked body.

Once I lay down, I turned my head, feeling my cheeks heat up with embarrassment, even though she couldn’t see my face.

April was kind about it, though, rubbing the warmed oil between her hands and then slowly pressing her palms against my shoulders. Her touch was firm but careful, working into the muscles with an ease I hadn’t expected. The scent of the oil filled the room, grounding me as she began kneading out the stress I’d carried back home.

Her hands moved down my back, thumbs pressing into the tight spots. “You’re really good at this,” I murmured, closing my eyes.

She laughed softly, pausing to rub more oil into her hands. “Told you I took a course. It’s all about finding the right pressure points.” She leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper as she worked her way down my lower back. It sent a shiver through me.

The more she worked, the more I relaxed – though something else was happening, too. There was an intimacy to her touch I hadn’t expected. I tried to ignore it, chalking it up to the fact that it’d been a while since I’d had anyone’s hands on me.

But…

No. I was being silly. I wanted to ask her a question, to hear her soft voice again, but the only thing I could think to ask about was my brother, and I did not want to think about him right now. I settled for silence, and the soft, barely audible sound of her hands smoothing across my body. I closed my eyes and relaxed.

Then I felt it again; a flicker of warmth that had nothing to do with the oil. I swallowed, reminding myself that it was just April, giving me a friendly massage. Nothing more. But then her hands drifted, lingering in places that felt good. Too good.

“You should turn over,” she whispered. Her voice sounds a little different now though, a little restrained. “To get the full experience.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said, not feeling sure if I really meant it.

“Oh,” there was hurt in her voice. “You are not enjoying it?”

“No…I am, very much.”

“Then turn. I will look away.”

I lifted my head from the bed, and sure enough, she had turned her back to me. Once again, to object would make me seem prudish, and so I obliged, carefully arranging the towels, suddenly very aware of my nakedness. I lay there, pulse quickening. April turned, and for a second I’m sure her eyes widened as the sigh of my heaving breasts barely contained by my towels.

I told myself I had imagined it, not knowing exactly where to look as she poured more oil into her hands, warming it, before she met my gaze and gave a reassuring smile.

“Relax,” she said. “I want to make you feel good.”

She placed her hands on my shoulders again, working her way down my arms in slow, deliberate strokes, her fingers grazing my collarbone and the tops of my breasts with just enough pressure to make my skin tingle. It was…nice, really nice, and once again I tried to ignore the other sensations stirring up inside me.

April’s hands slid down my sides, smoothing over my ribcage. She worked her way to my stomach, her thumbs pressing gently into my hips. I had to stop myself from letting out a sigh, focusing on steadying my breathing as her fingers glided along the curves of my waist and back up to my breasts.

“May I?”