Harry Styles Shorts and One Shots

One Shot: Spa **

Word Count: 6,161

TW: 18+, smut, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, risk of getting caught, masseuserry

YN

I've beyond reached my limit of stress when it comes to my job. Everyone is (ideally) supposed to do something that they love with their life. Me? I'm the assistant to a hot-shot CEO who treats me like I'm literal shit beneath his shoe. I bust my ass, go above and beyond, treat him like a king, and I've never once called off in the two years I've worked here.

He is a very exhausting and uncouth man. To be fair, he's worked his whole life to be where he is now. His name is Vance Foster and he's a twice-divorced fifty year old man who looks way younger than that. Everyone at work refers to him as "the British silver fox", but I refer to him as something much more derogatory.

As I stride into his office, I place his extra hot black coffee on his desk with a fresh scone from the café across the street. I'm about to leave once I see he's on a call, but he stops me.

"YN," he barks, turning his head away from me. "I'll call you back."

I stop in my tracks, my body instantly facing him. "Yes, sir?"

"Come sit," he commands, snapping and pointing towards the chair like I'm a fucking dog.

My hands rest in my lap as I do my best to maintain my inner furious beast that's trying to crawl out of my throat and strangle him.

"Don't think I don't realize all that you do for me," Vance begins, his harsh brown eyes not softening even a little as he speaks. "I've never had an assistant be as diligent and loyal as you've been these past three years."

I decide not to correct him on my time here at this job, and let him continue.

"I'm giving you the day off tomorrow so that you can have a three day weekend. I booked you a one hour massage appointment tomorrow at noon with my nephew at the spa parlor downtown. Normally he's very busy, but he made an exception for me, of course." His perfect white teeth grin in a cocky manner at me.

I blink at him in shock. "Wow. Thank you so much, sir. You didn't have to do that for me."

He waves his hand at me in a brushing-off manner. "Please. I can afford it, and you deserve a day. But don't think this is going to happen often. I just wanted you to know I appreciate you. Don't start to slack." Vance picks up the phone and shoos me away.

Inwardly rolling my eyes, I leave his office, a surprising smile on my face as I do. Never did I think that I'd live to see the day where Vance Foster did something nice for me. I'm not overly-thrilled with having a male masseuse, especially if I'm going to be fully naked, but I won't complain. A free massage is a  free massage.

***

When I pull into the parking lot of the spa parlor, my eyes blow wide at the pristine, luxurious appearance. Is this really where I'm supposed to be going? In my phone, I check and re-check the address that Vance sent me, being absolutely sure this is where I'm meant to go.

The outside is a crisp, sleek, white building with large silver letters that display the name of the spa above the front doors. Nervously, I pull open the vertical bar handle, immediately being hit with cool air that smells like floral essential oils. There's a white marble desk to the right where a beautiful, well-groomed woman sits, typing on a computer with her black hair slicked back into a tight bun.

My eyes are dancing around the lobby, admiring the expensive-looking decor. There's a gentle piano melody being played overhead, and it's complimented by the trickling from the waterfall that cascades down the wall into a small, rectangular pool beneath it.