Just thought I'd extrapolate on missing scenes from past stories...in my prequel entitled The Test, I refer to a certain massage therapist named Lucy, who was rescued from a wife-beating husband by Sully.  Here's that particular scene, which I called "Those Healing Hands"

Those healing hands By Comixfana

Here I lie on the massage table, soothing music playing in the background. This is a quiet place, a safe place.  She is short, shapely and attractive; her hazel eyes make me weak in the knees, her curly brown hair is brushed back and tied in a short ponytail. Her hands, so smooth and small are deceptively strong.

While her initial touch might be a bit sore, it soon becomes soothing and relaxing.  She does small talk as she oils me up; stretching my tendons, flushing out the lactic acid from my muscles, paying close attention to the knot below my shoulder blade, the damned injured shoulder that brought me here in the first place.

Guess I shouldn't complain…been going through a major dry spell since the Ice Queen dumped me in College…kinda pathetic that the closest thing to intimate contact is through massage therapy…but I’ll take what I can get. Besides, if I were to pull any stunt with her, I’d get my ass thrown out of this clinic and I’d have to get treatment somewhere else, with a massage therapist who’s heavier-handed and less attractive…so I keep things professional, not to jeopardize my contact to her wonderful, healing hands. 

Besides, she also happens to be married…to an abusive, alcoholic son of a bitch. 

Cake makeup covers her otherwise pretty face, concealing the bruises suffered at the hands of the bastard.  How unfair that this sweet, gentle woman, a healer, cannot enjoy the same level of safety and well-being that she provides; and how I wish I could catch the bastard in the act, put an end to that ugly cycle of violence…if that son of a bitch gives me cause to intervene, I’ll kick his ass!

Loud screaming from the clinic’s reception interrupted the FBI rookie’s reverie.

“Lucy! Get the FUCK out here you cheap whore! You touch that phone and I’ll kick your fucking teeth in you bitch!” the angry, drunken voice clamored from the reception.

“Talk about the devil…” Quentin mumbled, getting up from the massage table, his face twisted in an angry scowl.

“D-don’t Quentin, it’ll only make matters worse, I…I’ll go calm him down…” Lucy said, anxiously.

Gently but firmly, Quentin put his hands on her shoulders, steadying her.

“No Lucy, haven’t you had enough? He’ll kill you! He sure as hell tried more than once!  I happen to be a Federal Agent, and I also happen to like you, a lot.  I’m not letting you become another statistic if I can help it; every day, three women die at the hands of an abusive spouse! Not on my watch!  Wait for me here.” He said, in a low, soothing voice.

Nervously, she nodded, tears welling up in her eyes.  As the screaming continued in the reception area, Quentin walked out of the treatment room, dressed in nothing more than his boxer briefs, his impressive weight-lifter’s physique in full display, and made his way to the reception area.

Lucy’s husband, leaning on the receptionist’s desk with clenched fists was now threatening the poor young lady, who was now as pale as a ghost, with legal action.

“Oh so you’ll sue her and the Clinic, you wife-beating piece of shit? We’ll see about that!” Quentin thought, as he looked at the front desk from the hallway that led to the locker rooms and treatment rooms.

“Yo dude! Relax man, you wanna see Lucy? Follow me, I’ll show you where she is.” Quentin said, with authority.

“Who the FUCK are you?” Lucy’s husband bellowed, turning his attention to Quentin, to the receptionist’s relief.

“A Federal Agent trying to get a fucking relaxing massage, which you’re seriously disrupting Jack!  So you can either follow me, or I’m the one who’ll call fucking security! Your choice!” Quentin said, resisting the urge to beat the crap out of him on the spot.

“Awrite…I’ll follow ya…” the husband said, realizing how much bigger the man in the boxer briefs was than him.

“Right this way.” Quentin said, luring him to the men’s locker room instead.

Before Lucy’s husband realized where he was, Quentin had grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket, and pinned him against the wall, pushing him up, until his feet no longer touched the ground.

“Wha…wha…what…” he stammered, terrified.

“Tell me tough guy, how does it feel to be a helpless victim?” Quentin asked, furious, eyes bulging from his head.

“Who…who do you think you are?  I know people, I’ll find out where you live…” Lucy’s husband stuttered, ready to piss his pants.

Still holding him pinned against the wall, Quentin threw his head back laughing.

“Knock yourself out tough guy! And see how going after a Federal Agent works out for you!  Now pay close attention, as of right now, your lovely wife is fucking done with the punching bag gig, got it?” Quentin growled, livid.

Lucy’s husband nodded timidly, his face as pale as a bed sheet.

“Good boy. From this point on, Lucy is under my personal protection, after her shift is done, she is going home escorted by myself and a few other Agents to gather her personal belongings and then; we’re escorting her to a safe house.  If Lucy doesn’t show up for a shift, if I see new bruises on her, hell, if she catches a fucking cold!  I’ll have your ass in a sling!  If I catch you so much as looking at her the wrong way, I’ll see to it personally that you eat through a straw for the rest of your natural life; bank on that!” Quentin said, his voice taking a gravelly edge.

Quentin released his grip and the wife-beater stumbled his way out of the clinic, sobbing.  Quentin shook his head in disgust and made his way back to the treatment room.

“Okay, I think he got the message, when we’re done, I’ll call my pals Townshend, Carter and Robinson.  We’ll escort you home to gather your belongings and then to a safe house…” Quentin said, interrupted in mid-sentence by Lucy, who threw herself in his arms, hungrily slipping her tongue in his mouth.

Eyes closed, their tongues danced an erotic tango, her hands reaching for his boxer briefs, pulling them down, and his hands unbuttoning her masseuse’s tunic, opening it, exposing her naked DD breasts. They broke their lip lock and opened their eyes. Smiling, she slipped off her tunic and toed off her flat sole shoes as he pulled her white tights down to her ankles.

“No bra…how can her poor back handle the strain of those big tits with no bra?” he wondered, helping Lucy out of her tights.

Now fully naked, they looked admiringly at each other’s naked body, smiling.

“I’ve been fantasizing about this for so long Lucy…you’re so gorgeous!” Quentin said, heart beating fast.

“Me too Quentin, you’re like my personal handsome superhero you’re…” Lucy said, throwing her arms around him, French-kissing him again.

He swept her off her feet and sat her on the side of the massage table, spreading her legs open.  She let out an excited grunt as his hands went from her groin down her inner thighs, then to her knees, and back up. He knelt between her legs and buried his face in her crotch, licking her wet slit merrily.  She bit her knuckles, wanting to avoid yelping too loudly and attract the attention from the other treatment rooms.

“Don’t stop Quentin…we just need to keep quiet or I’ll get fired!” Lucy mumbled in a low voice, as Quentin lapped her clit and wet labia like a thirsty puppy.

He answered her with a low moan, exerting a bit of extra pressure on her clit with his tongue; savoring her, enjoying every gasp and squirm as she used every bit of self-control not to scream in ecstasy.

“Hmmm…Hmmmmhhh…Hmmmmmm!” she moaned, her voice becoming gradually higher-pitched while keeping it quiet.

She exhaled loudly, wrapping her legs around his head; holding his face against her dripping slit, in prey of an intense orgasm.  Panting, she loosened her grip.

“Sorry…you…you okay?  Mark would never eat me out, you made me cum so hard…” she said, in a near whisper.

“It was a bit snug down there, but I’ll live!  Glad to have been able to pleasure you!” Quentin said in a quiet voice, winking at her.

“And then some! And we ain’t done yet! Stand up!” Lucy commanded with a mischievous grin, as she slid off the massage table.

Quentin complied, and watched in amazement as Lucy knelt before him, grabbing his cock in her right hand, gently masturbating him; rubbing the head of his cock against her firm breasts and then taking it in her mouth, still stroking his shaft.

“Ohhh baby…” Quentin said, trying to remember his self-control techniques of yesteryear; which he had developed with Brenda…before she turned into the Ice Queen.

“You like that big guy?” She asked, once again rubbing the head of his cock on her breasts, focusing on her nipples.

“You, my dear, have talent for understatement! I’m using every bit of self-control not to shoot my load on you!” Quentin said, breathing hard.

“Not yet!” Lucy said, smiling as she stood up.

She turned her back to him and bent over, leaning against the massage table.

“Doggy me big guy, fuck me hard, make me feel like a wanted, attractive woman instead of a door mat!  Then I wanna feel your hot cum all over my ass! Claim my pussy Quentin, make it yours! Make me yours!” Lucy said, teasingly wiggling her ass.

“Okay then!” Quentin said, excited.

He knelt down for a few moments, admiring Lucy’s gorgeous ass. He kissed her left cheek, her right cheek, then her anus, making her gasp out of surprise.  He stood up, pulled her buttocks apart, slowly sliding the head of his cock in her tight vulva, teasingly shallow-penetrating her, driving her crazy.

Lucy grabbed the pillow from the massage table and buried her face into it, muffling her screams of pleasure, no longer able to hold back.  Holding her firmly by the hips, he continued teasingly shallow-penetrating her, and after 8 or 12 thrusts, he suddenly slammed his rod deep inside her moist core, making her shout a muffled, high-pitched “HMMMPFF!” in the pillow.

He was now increasing his cadence, pistoning his full length within her, her firm buttocks pleasantly cushioning his pubis and groin.  Trying his best not to go too hard and hurt her, he became lost in sensation; her pussy was tight, hot and dripping wet, greedily squeezing his shaft.

“Oh Lucy…I’m so close…I don’t wanna shoot my load before you cum though…” Quentin mumbled, panting.

She lifted her head from the pillow, gasping, her face flushed.

“Do it baby…I already came twice…when you ate me and then when you slammed your cock deep in me…shower me with your jizz baby…then grab a towel from the towel warmer to clean us up!” Lucy said, in a low moan.

“Okay Lucy, you asked for it!  I’m gonna cum…trying not to get too loud…I’m, Hmmmmmm…” Quentin said, pulling out, gasping and panting, Old Faithful erupting all over Lucy’s shapely ass and back, even reaching all the way between her shoulder blades.

Lucy buried her face back into the pillow, yelping in surprise as the hot, wet sticky cum splashed her skin.  She turned her head to the side, laying it on the pillow, panting and smiling.

“That was amazing Quentin, you’re a wonderful lover; I sure needed that!” Lucy said, keeping her voice down.

“You and me both baby…let me grab that hot towel and clean you up!  Don’t move…” Quentin said, wobbly kneed.

“Tell you what though, you may need intensive treatment, some house calls may be in order…to yield better results!” Lucy said, as Quentin opened the towel warmer.

“It would certainly give us more privacy and freedom of motion…” Quentin mumbled with a smirk, bringing hot towel over to her.

She inhaled deeply, as Quentin cleaned her buttocks and back with the hot towel.  Smiling, she straightened up and took the hot towel from him, kneeling again before him, and proceeded to clean his cock with it.  She then stood back up and tossed the hot towel in the dirty linens hamper.  She then wrapped her arms around his lower back, leaning her bruised cheek against his chest letting out a whispered “Ow!”

He gently put his muscular arms around her, making her feel safe for the first time in ages.

“Remember Lucy, this is the last time ever your body will be hurt from that asshole’s beatings.  He’s history.” Quentin said, in a comforting voice.

Teary-eyed, she looked up at him and smiled.

“Thank you Quentin!” she said.

They kissed.  They got dressed, and Quentin pulled his cell phone from his jacket’s pocket.

“Hey Chris, Sully here…yeah, big favor…a certain massage therapist is leaving her wife-beating husband…Hallelujah indeed!  Could you get a hold of Carter and Robinson, have some backup just in case the asshole gets excited?  Sweet, see you there in a half hour…yeah bring the minivan! Thanks Chris, I owe you!” Quentin said, smiling.

The end