Were's the Love?

Chapter 21: Do I "Like-Like" Him; or The Art of Seduction

"That feels soo good! Don't stop! Harder. Harder. That's perfect!" I hear Tammy moan behind the curtain next to me and jump a little. What the fuck is wrong with that woman? It feels a little like I'm listening to someone film a porno movie! Is that how loud she is when she's having sex? Is that something wolves like? Loud partners? Maybe that's why Jason hasn't touched me recently. I'm too reserved for his taste. No. I don't think that's it. I doubt Jason cares how loud I am. He's pretty quiet too.

"Would you keep it down, Tammy?" Bethany yells from behind another partition, "We're supposed to be relaxing and hearing you moan in pleasure isn't really my idea of relaxation."

"Oh, shove it, Bethany!" Tammy groans, "Brian has the hands of a god."

"Maybe you should ask him to teach Vincent a thing or two on how to pleasure you, since he clearly isn't doing the job."

"Vincent does a great job, thank you very much." Tammy snaps.

"Really?" Bethany laughs, "Then why does it sound like you're about to cum during a massage?"

So, to clarify, on my way home from the store yesterday, Bethany called and asked if I'd be interested in another ladies' outing with her and Tammy. I was going to say no. As much as I enjoyed going to the mall with them, I'm more of a homebody. The fewer people I have to interact with outside of work, the better and dealing with Jason has been more than enough interaction for me. However, when she mentioned that they were going to the spa, I couldn't refuse.

Still, we've been here twenty minutes and I'm already regretting my decision to come.

I like Tammy and Bethany. I do. They are kind of fun to be around, but they are noisier than most people I normally associate with. And they have no filter. They just say whatever comes to their minds, without thinking about how it might sound to others, then laugh about the look of shock on everyone's faces. I like staying in the shadows, so all the attention is a little embarrassing.

Plus, the two of them have been friends since they were children, so I feel a little like a third wheel.

"Is everything to your liking, Miss Black?" Gretchen, my masseuse, leans in and asks.

"It's wonderful, Gretchen," I answer, "and you can call me Allison."

She nods and continues to work her slimy hands over my muscles. I've known Gretchen for years. She and her family are among my mother's list of patients and I used to babysit her occasionally in High School. However, she doesn't remember me watching her. She only remembers me as her former English teacher and, even though she graduated three years ago, she insists on still calling me Miss Black. I think her reluctance to call me by my name has to do with the weak nature of her animal. She's a slug.

Now, I know what you're thinking.

"Were-slugs? Are you shitting me? I thought you were joking when you mentioned it earlier. What a lame creature to shift into!"

Well, I wasn't joking and, although they can't fight, they are the best massage therapists and spa technicians in the business. Most of them have perfectly honed their skills and they have a unique talent for partial transformations. Thanks to that talent, they have a natural lubricant that comes directly from their palms that does wonders for your skin. It might sound gross, but if you ever have the chance to get a massage from a slug shifter, I highly recommend it. Your skin will thank me for it later.

And, if it helps, were-slugs are some of the sweetest people you will ever meet. They're a little shy, but that's on account of how the years their species spent in hiding. Believe it or not, other shifters weren't always welcoming to those they viewed as "lesser." However, thanks to the views of our chief and his ancestors, the slugs finally found a home amongst others of our kind where they are welcomed and their talents are appreciated. We actually have a decent number of slugs living in our village. My mom has one who works in her clinic as a dermatologist.