----
Steve arrived at the mall about half an hour after it opened. Monday hadn't told him what time to be there, and he didn't feel like waiting. She had said she was going to break the rules, and he fervently hoped she wanted to break them thoroughly. He was skipping his physics class for this meeting. The massage kiosk was near one of the ends of the mall. Steve had always wondered who would want to get a massage with all those people walking around them. He walked up to the only person there, a tough looking middle-aged Chinese man.
"Are you the only one that does massages here?" Steve asked.
"I'm the only one. Take a seat."
Steve sat down and put his face in the ring. He had fantasized about what might happen in his head all night, and none of his fantasies included intimidating Chinese men. He swallowed his disappointment and tried to relax as the masseuse's large knuckle found a sore spot in his back to torture.
It was only two minutes later that the masseuse disappeared and a smaller hand pressed against the back of his head.
"Don't turn around." Steve had never heard Monday's voice properly. Most of the time he'd been with her she was either whispering or screaming in ecstasy. "I'm going to explain what's going on, but you need to keep your face in the ring."
"You realize that's about the worst think you could tell me right now, right?"
"Yes, I know," Monday said. Her voice had a quality he was drawn to- there was strength in it, and intelligence. "I changed my mind. I was going to let you see me today but I got an idea that is going to be... better. In a lot of ways. Unless, of course, I can make you come in your pants right now." This last was purred into his ear and got him well on his way to doing just that.
She ran her fingernails gently across his scalp and started massaging his neck. Her touch was probably less therapeutic than the Chinese man's, but it made Steve feel a hell of a lot better.
"I have to ask you something about Dieter. Can you help me out a little? The girls don't know I'm doing this."
Steve was surprised. He thought the girls were omniscient. They knew almost everything about him and his friends. "I'll try. Sounds weird though."
"It is kind of weird. I'll tell you a little if I need to. Can you tell me if Dieter hates anyone?"
"I don't think so. Dieter's a teddy bear. With huge muscles. I don't think there's anyone he hates. Wait- I have heard him complaining about French girls. I think he went out with one once and he never felt good enough for her. She wanted it that way. He probably thinks they're all like that."
"Hm. That's interesting." Monday had moved down to Steve's shoulders and was working the muscles with her thumbs.
"Why? Is there some sort of French-in-the-dark lesson in his future?" Steve wondered.
"No. Not exactly. She does speak French though, and her English has a slight French accent. That's not really what I'm getting at. He's not..." Monday searched for the right words, "He's not biased or racist, right? I mean, we could kind of get a bead on the rest of you guys, but Dieter has turned out to be kind of opaque that way."
"So she's not white and you're concerned that he's going to freak out?"
Monday sat down on the seat behind Steve and leaned her head against his back. He could smell her hair. "We're all taking similar risks with you guys- you could reject us after we've been extremely vulnerable with you. It's just more pronounced and dangerous with Dieter's girl. I hadn't actually planned to screw you- I just did because I liked you and we were having so much fun and that's a problem because she's different from him in a lot of ways, and she's a virgin. She's not a prude, ironically, she didn't realize it was going to go that far or she would have balked. She's my friend and I don't want anyone to get hurt."
Steve thought for a moment. "Here's what I think. You girls are imaginative and you could probably figure out seven ways to make a guy come with a cotton ball and chopsticks. If actual penetration is the only thing she refuses to do on his night, I'm sure she'll think of something that will make him feel, uh, appreciated. As for the race issue, that's not going to be a problem. He doesn't skip pages in his Swimsuit Edition. Hell, if he's anything like me, he'd probably bust a nut if the Nordic girl in his head turned out to be a Navaho."
"Well, I'm really glad to hear that," Monday said, "That will make things go so much more... smoothly."
She put her arms around his waist and just held him, her head against his back. He tried to see her arms, but he couldn't move his head down at all.
"Can I ask you to do something for me?" Monday asked.
"Anything."
"Tell me what I look like to you. Don't give me a speech about inner beauty. You already know me like that. I want to hear you tell me your guesses. Start with my hair."
Monday's fingers were back in Steve's hair, making his mind fuzzy. "You're blond. Not dyed or platinum. An honest silky blond with slightly darker streaks. Your hair blows easily in the wind"
"I sure blew you easily." Monday slid a hand around and flicked his nipple with her finger. "My eyes. What about them?"
"Hazel. Your look is honest and direct, even when what you want makes you nervous."
"I like that, Steve." She unbuttoned a single button on his shirt and slid her hand against the skin of his chest and tickled gently. "Tell me about my skin."
"It's lightly freckled and prone to blushing. You used to try to cover that up, but you found that other people found it attractive, so you decided to find it attractive too. There's something else about your skin I can't match up- my fingers feel something more. Something exciting and different. Something I can't quite describe."
"Yes," Monday murmured, "you have excellent fingers. You'll forgive me if, instead of telling you how accurate you are, I tell you something I've never seen that I can guess about you." She slid her hands down to the crotch of his jeans and tickled him through the fabric. "Your balls, I imagine, are a fetching shade of blue. Don't worry though, they won't stay that way."
Then she squeezed him suddenly around the middle and said, "The proverbial nuts are going to be busting left and right. I really need to go now. Please give me a few minutes. I don't want you to ruin my evil scheme."
Steve groaned when he felt her leave and called "Goodbye" pathetically, still looking at the floor. Almost immediately there was another much less pleasant presence at his ear.
"I know pressure points." It was the masseuse, back again and growling coldly in Steve's ear.
"She paid for your fifteen minutes and an extra 25 bucks to tell you that if you ask any questions at all about her or if you take your face out of that ring in the next five minutes I get to make you unconscious. It's a technique I've always wanted an excuse to try. If it becomes necessary, she's going to give me another 25 to drag you out to the dumpsters, where you'll wake up in desperate need of muscle relaxants."
"I prefer the honor system myself," Steve said, "but she certainly can be persuasive if she wants to be." He tried to relax as the man's knuckle attacked another knot.
----
The email had already arrived when Steve got home, feeling surprisingly relaxed. The guys were all bending over Anthony's laptop on the dining room table, rereading it.
Hello Boys,
We sure are enjoying your hospitality. It has made some sparks in our house, as Thursday and Friday are, as I write, trying to convince Wednesday to swap places with them. There have been both threats and bribes offered but she's sticking to her guns. One girl even suggested splitting up and getting two of you appreciated in one night. She was shouted down and has been put on dish duty for the rest of the week.
Wednesday has chosen Justin to appreciate. She's been impressed with his courtesy, and I think she's a little smitten with that gentle Southern accent. It's been hard for her to pick just a few things to appreciate- Justin seems to ooze goodness (her words.) In particular, when he talks to women, he tries valiantly, and sometimes successfully to keep his eyes on their faces. (Don't get us wrong- we like being looked at, but we also like it when you try not to!) He donated a very pretty radio control airplane to the mentor program, and he lets all the Korean exchange students copy his notes in his modern art appreciation class. She says there's something about his painting that heals her.
Which brings us to tonight. We are all very impressed with Gabe's thoughtfulness with that delicious rug. We're all having fantasies about wriggling around on it naked like Tuesday got to. Tonight, although it's breaking our hearts, it's going to be best to keep it safely out of the basement. Bring in that shag rug instead.
Wednesday has a penchant for the dramatic, and, while we've toned it down a few notches, we're still going to need to get into the basement before you do tonight to set a few things up. You guys will need to go into your kitchen at 8:30 tonight and stay there- all of you together- until 9:00. We'll be waiting for you with goosebumps.
Love, Monday, for Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday
Justin was intent on the email. "She must be in my Art Appreciation class. I can't remember a single one of the girls' faces."
"Maybe- or she is friends with the Koreans in your class or she knows the prof." Anthony said, "I kind of doubt she's actually in the class. She might be another art major though."
"Do you think she has big boobs?" Justin asked, "What she said about that makes me think she might."
Anthony grunted. "Again, maybe. A smaller breasted woman notices when your eyes leave her face for another woman's chest too. These girls are devilishly good at giving vague, tantalizing information."
The conversation went on like this for some time, and the guys pored over Monday's and Tuesday's emails as well. The fact that this last email was written by Monday, and not by Thursday was discussed at some length, but nothing concrete could be made of it.
Eight thirty came and the guys were sitting around the kitchen when they heard the front door open and close, the girls' feet descending into the basement, the basement door closing. They sat silent, listening breathlessly, hoping for some clue beyond the vague bumps and scrapes floating up from below.
"You okay, Justin?" Steve said, "You're looking a little green."
"Yeah, just nervous. What if she wants me to do something freaky? I don't really feel like I can say no."
Dieter snorted. "Go with it. I get the feeling whatever is up is tailored to you."
Justin listened to some vague bumps and a sudden muffled outburst of the girls' laughter from below. "I'm going to go with it. Whatever it is."
As the microwave's clock flipped over to nine, Anthony said, "Hey, let's show them we're eager."
Justin said, "How?" But he was too late. Anthony led a clattering charge down the hall, the other guys jostling each other on his heels. Justin brought up the rear, and he was the last one down the stairs and in the door.
They were met with shrieks of laughter from the girls. One of them shouted that the winner should get a prize.
"They all get a little prize tonight." Wednesday's voice had a wry edge to it, like she had a half smile when she talked. "You'll find a block of chocolate on your chair. It got kind of warm and melty, but I think it should get us started on the right foot. I put a wipe on your chair for when you're done. The girls didn't wait for you and gobbled theirs down before you came in. I thought it was very rude, but they couldn't be stopped."
"I'm going to give you your chocolate myself, Justin, if you can find me."
Justin moved forward cautiously, his hands in front of him. His right hand bumped into what was clearly Wednesday's breast. She captured his hand against herself and pressed against his body. Justin could feel that she was wearing a silky robe or dress.
Wednesday nuzzled into his neck and whispered to him, "I lied. I ate your chocolate too. Maybe you can get a little taste..." And she kissed him deeply, wrapping her arms around his back and grabbing his ass.
"That's good chocolate," Justin gasped.
Wednesday stepped back slightly, so only their hands were touching. "Yes, Listen, the girls know part of what's going to happen, but not all of it." Wednesday whispered conspiratorially. "I'm going to get a little revenge. They've been calling me 'Wednesday Addams' and, when they think I'm not listening, 'Hump Day.' Judging by the number of pillow cases in the laundry lately, it's 'Hump Week.'"
"I'm not sure I understand that last part..." Justin started.
"Oh baby, you will if you can go with the flow for me. For now, though, I need you to get more familiar with me. Use your hands for eyes. I have some qualities that are best appreciated blind. Just don't take any of my clothes off yet."
Justin placed his hands on Wednesday's hips and was surprised to feel her dancing, just barely, but definitely swaying to a slow groove he couldn't hear yet. He let his hands travel down her thighs where the silky garment gave out and he found himself caressing warm, smooth legs.
Wednesday hummed a little at the touch of his fingers on her skin. Justin felt for her face and felt it, a sleek face, he thought, with defined cheekbones and jawline. He ran his hands down her front, and the size of her breasts surprised him. "Wow," he breathed.
"I know," Wednesday said, wiggling her chest for him a little, "the dark adds a few sizes. Mmmm. Do that a little more."
"Can we get a little update, Justin?" one of the guys asked from the wall.
"Make 'em sweat a while," Wednesday whispered, "and don't be shy with me.