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Part Three Lydia arrived at her third massage appointment with a sense of determination. She had decided that this would be the day when she would discover, finally, if Olivia was purposefully manipulating her to orgasm. She planned to flirt a little with the massage therapist; either Olivia would respond in kind, or the therapist would be professional and put an end to it.

Lydia wasn't sure which would be more embarrassing, finding out another woman had the hots for her, or potentially being escorted from the premises. If the latter happened, she had to admit that she would miss the jet tub! The kind receptionist handed her a glass of champagne without being asked, and Lydia swilled it with more urgency than class. The Greek god from before showed her to the same massage room (she couldn't remember his actual name—Ken seemed to be the one that stuck no matter how hard she tried).

Olivia was in the small massage room waiting for her, and Lydia took in the woman as she made the expected pleasantries. She was wearing a very short tennis skirt and another company polo, its V-neck slashed low enough to show a fair amount of cleavage.

Soon Olivia left the room, and Lydia quickly stripped down. Carefully she sat at the edge of the massage table, her heart beating wildly with anticipation and nerves as she waited for the exact right moment to start her plan. Olivia gave a small tap on the door and pushed it open. Lydia quickly turned and laid on her stomach, pretending that she was just getting on the table when Olivia entered, and thereby giving the woman an excellent view of her nudity.

The massage therapist seemed startled. "Oh, I'm sorry Lydia, I thought you were ready! Should I come back in another minute?" Lydia shook her head and smiled, "It's fine. If you could just help me with the sheet…?" "Of course!" the other woman hurried over and grabbed the edge of the sheet, pulling it over Lydia's bare bottom and back.

Lydia studied her carefully.

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She was definitely flustered, but it was hard to tell if she was embarrassed or aroused. She would have to see what else she could do to further her experiment. Olivia started her massage, but Lydia was too tense to enjoy the woman's ministrations. The therapist kneaded her tight neck and shoulders, and moved down her back while Lydia remained lost in thought. Vaguely she was aware of the other woman pulling down the sheet to expose her bottom, but she didn't focus on this fact until she felt a drizzle of warm oil on her butt cheeks as Olivia's hands descended on them.

"You are way too tense, Lydia," the other woman admonished softly as she started manipulating Lydia's ass. "You need to relax." Lydia bit her lip against a groan as Olivia's skillful fingers weaved their magic over one of her newly-discovered erogenous zones.

She was so caught up in sensation, she didn't notice that Olivia had subtly moved her legs further apart on the massage table. Her oiled hands slipped between Lydia's thighs, just barely caressing her labia. Up and down, up and down; the sides of Olivia's hands brushed against Lydia's pussy. Lydia was panting now, her body arched like a bow and covered in a light sheen of sweat.

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"Relax, Lydia," Olivia murmured the words softly as she pushed her hands against the trembling woman just a little more firmly. With a loud cry she didn't even try to conceal, Lydia came magnificently, then collapsed breathlessly on the table, a boneless heap. Her hair was a riot, her face blotched from thrashing back and forth across the sheets. She was, in short, a hot mess. Olivia, on the other hand, looked like the cat who had swallowed the canary. "There," she said, "I'm sure you're more relaxed now." Lydia looked at her in dumbfounded amazement.

Five minutes ago she had been scheming on how to manipulate the other woman into admitting that her sexual attentions had not been accidental, and Olivia had gone and given her an amazing orgasm that nobody in their right mind could pretend wasn't on purpose.

"I'm… I'm not sure what to say," Lydia faltered. "Sugar, you may not know what to say, but you definitely knew what you were doing. I could tell from the moment you stepped into this room that you were trying to figure out if I'm attracted to you or not. I think you've got the answer now.

The question is, what are you going to do with this information?" Lydia blushed. Olivia had seen through her ploy and had used it to her own advantage. Too bad she was too satiated to feel any real irritation at being called out. Also, Olivia had a point. What was she going to do with her newfound knowledge?

She conceded to Olivia. "What do you want me to do?" "Well," Oliva said, "we have a couple of options. I think it's safe to say that you are not going to blow the whistle on me to spa administration. That would unavoidably bring you into the limelight as well, since you are not completely innocent in all this.

Besides, I get the feeling that you're not that kind of person. So here's what's left: either we pretend none of this ever happened and you go on your way, or we continue this exploration to our mutual benefit.

The choice is completely up to you." Lydia narrowed her eyes at the other woman. She sounded more like a lawyer than a massage therapist, and she had to admire the woman's intelligence. "What if I choose to continue this?" she asked softly. Olivia looked genuinely surprised, then thoughtful. "If a client requests it and I give my consent, the spa allows me to perform massage therapy sessions in their homes. You have one more massage session left in your set.

You can request my services for an at-home session, and we can see where this goes from there." Lydia nodded, trying to absorb this information. She didn't want to make a snap decision she'd regret later.

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Olivia must have sensed her hesitation, because she said gently, "you don't have to tell me now. If you decide to do it, request the at-home session on your way out. If you decide not to, you don't need to explain.

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In the meantime, your hour is up. The bath is ready if you'd like to freshen up before you leave." Olivia gave Lydia an almost wistful look, then slipped out the door.

Lydia sat on the massage table for a couple of minutes, her thoughts swirling. Finally she stood, picked up her discarded clothes, and made her way into the bathroom. It amazed her how much more comfortable she had become with her own nudity in the last few weeks. She stepped into the steaming water and leaned back with an indulgent sigh.

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Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to imagine Olivia. Her smile, the sway of her hips, her tanned cleavage. Lydia's hands roamed her body and became Olivia's, stroking and caressing.

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By the time she remembered to turn the jets of the whirlpool on, she was already close to coming. The water whooshed around her, hitting in all the right places as she brought herself closer and closer to the edge of the precipice. Opening her eyes to stare at the ceiling, she was surprised to catch the smallest movement in the ajar doorway of the massage room.

She turned her head and saw Olivia watching her through the gap in the door. The girl had one hand down the front of her skirt, masturbating furiously. The other hand was clamped over her mouth, no doubt to stifle her own moans of pleasure.

When Lydia looked directly at her, Olivia's eyes widened almost comically in surprise at being caught. But somehow, Lydia couldn't find it in her to be upset. In fact, Olivia watching just made her hotter, made every sensation more magnified. Her eyes never leaving Olivia's, Lydia arched her back out of the water, making sure her breasts were in perfect view.

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Then she covered them with her hands, squeezing her erect nipples and groaning. The water jet between her legs spurred her higher and higher, but she wasn't ready to come just yet. Olivia dropped her hand from her mouth and moaned, her hand working faster in her panties as she watched her client put on a show worthy of a seasoned porn star.

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It wasn't long before she came hard, holding onto the doorframe as shudders racked her body. Lydia let her own orgasm overtake her, collapsing back into the water in exhaustion.

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When she looked to the doorway, Olivia was gone. Fifteen minutes later, Lydia was back in the foyer, talking to the receptionist. The butterflies were having a marvelous time in her stomach, but she sounded remarkably calm as she booked a home-visit with Olivia for the following Saturday.

She knew Mark would be away all day at a Rockies game with one of his work friends, so she would have the house to herself. Guiltily, Lydia wondered how she had gone from prudish wife to scheming adulterer with such alacrity.

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