(2018-11-21) A Needed Break
Olivia decides to treat herself to a massage…in an eerie looking house.

The address for Royal Wellness is way out on a plot of land at Ash Way and Route 10, just over the bridge and really close to a newly re-opened bar, The Alibi. The clapboard house that will soon (um… some day) be the home of Royal Wellness is generously a work in progress. It has good bones, whatever that really means ($$$), and has clearly just been purchased. The SOLD sign is still jabbed into the scraggly lawn, and one can almost imagine a 'sucker' add-on tacked to it and swinging in the cool breeze.

Tonight, only one of the porch bulbs burns, and the lights inside are fairly low. It's a little dark and creepy as the sun's just set. There's no identifying sign for the business yet, but it's the only two story in renovation right next to The Alibi Bar and Grill. And the email did say the porch light would be on.

Olivia looks at the email on her phone, and then up at the semi-derelict building, and then back to her phone again. "Everyone has to start somewhere" she shrugs to herself before slipping the phone away and heading up to the door. She eyes off the porch light, expecting it to blink out at any moment, before rapping softly on the door. She's on time…and bundled up against the cold and snow; boots, jeans, heavy jacket, beanie pulled down on her head. "Please hurry" she whispers, stamping her feet to get the circulation going.

The door opens almost immediately, luckily with glass panels intact so one can see movement inside before sudden swinging. "Hi, Olivia? So sorry about the…" She pulls the door open wider and steps side, gesturing for the other woman to come in out of the cold. "New building. Not… quite what I expected when I arrived." She smiles, a little bit of a slow, warm southern accent coloring her words. "We're going upstairs where the renovation's almost complete." The gentle prattle of her welcome is probably some nerves working out. Because one look at this house could, in theory, send everyone running away never to return.

Inside, the place is heated, the wood stove in the main room crackling and popping, consuming some hardwood logs. It smells faintly of woodsmoke in here, along with the warm, rich scent of snickerdoodle cookies. If a person closed their eyes, they could almost imagine a lodge in winter, welcoming guests in from the snow. "I'm Royal. Royal Kelly. May I take your coat?"

"Pleased to meet you, Royal." Olivia tries one of those smile things she's heard about, moving inside a little quicker than expected since it is damn cold inside. She also carries a plastic bag that she puts down next to the door, the clink of bottles coming from inside - she did some shopping before arriving. "Thanks" she replies to the jacket offer, wriggling out of it to hand it over. She wears a tank top underneath - no wonder she was cold - since it seemed appropriate for a massage. Her right shoulder bandaged. And just ignore the automatic pistol in the back of her jeans.

"That fire smells good" Olivia sighs after taking a deep breath. She hopes it is an intentional fire. "Wherever you need me to be" she nods with a glance upstairs. Another sniff. "Is that cookies? Trust me, this place is luxury compared to mine."

Royal places the jacket on a single hook beside the door, one spot clear of renovation supplies and luggage, and such. "The gentle clink of bottles, very cheerful for the holidays," Royal grins but doesn't ask after them yet, because that would be rude. "It's warmer upstairs."

Up the solid, but slightly creaky wooden staircase to the second floor they go. The paint up here is fresh, character intact but clean and really quite lovely. Warm white candles flicker here and there, and the place is far more welcoming. If this is the standard to which the rest of the building will be held, there is hope yet. Or it's a murder trap. One or the other.

"I fell in love with this part of the house when I bought the place." She pauses, then says, "Snow works wonders." As does, she suspects, photoshop on the exterior shots she saw. "It is cookies—snickerdoodles. If you'd like one on your way out, you're welcome do it." She moves on from the top of the landing and indicates a table setup with fresh linens. An additional space heater has been placed near it, to keep the area extra toasty. "Refresh my memory. Did you want the hot stone deep massage, or a chair massage?" The former requires fewer clothes and stretching out on the table, the latter simply requires sitting in a special tipped-forward chair, face nestled into a pillowy donut.

"Oh, just some celebratory Thanksgiving drinks" Olivia smirks with a glance to the bag. "The only turkey I'll be having this year is Wild Turkey" she smirks before following Royal upstairs. The second floor definitely looks better. The candles earn a smile - she has a pet peeve about movies with thousands of candles in rooms, who lights them all to that quickly to be all even!

"Deep please. As deep as possible" Olivia replies about the massage, pulling out her gun, removing the clip and ejecting the last round before placing the weapon on the floor next to the table. "Sorry about this. I'm an FBI agent…and people want to kill me. Don't worry, I wasn't followed." As far as she knows. "I'd love a snickerdoodle later, thanks. So, how much do I have to take off?"

Royal makes no mention of the firearm, of course, though she certainly saw it. "I was hesitant to bring a client in at this stage in the reno, but I'm really glad you came over tonight. It gets quiet way out here." She smiles a bit and adds, "I don't mind your weapon. I have a wall safe for clients if you'd prefer to use that, or you can keep it close at hand. My hands won't touch anything but you." She definitely doesn't mind a gun in a house next to a bar, particularly one looks like a murder movie set from outside. "How much you take off depends on where you'd like me to concentrate. I can do split massage, half on your upper body, half legs and feet. All upper. Up to you entirely." She nods to the towels, which come in several sizes. "You go ahead and take care of that and drape anything you don't want me to touch or see. I'll be back in a couple of minutes when you're ready." She pauses by what looks like a small white crock pot, adjusting the temperature before she steps out.

"Close at hand if you don't mind" Olivia replies about the pistol. "Can I have everything?" she asks about the massage. "Seriously, I need it." A little tiredness in her voice at that before she starts to strip off. No fancy lingerie here. Once naked, the Latina lies on her stomach on the table. She hasn't bothered with any towels. Hopefully, she won't fall asleep before Royal gets back.

Royal returns a couple of moments later, making quick work of removing a trio of hot basalt stones from the little stone warmer. She dries them on a small towel, then brings the largest flat rock, perhaps a couple of pounds and seven inches in diameter, to rest over a small, folded towel at the base of Olivia's spine. The weight is sleight, but the heat begins to radiate gently, slowly working to relax the muscles of the sacrum with light pressure and increasing warmth. "If you fall asleep, that's ok. If you want to talk, you can, but please don't feel you have to. This is your time." She warms her hands with heated oil. "Beginning with your back. If I work too close to your injury, let me know." She first spreads the oil in even, long strokes down the back, from shoulder to waist, coming back up once before her hands lift to walk two river rocks, each smooth and warm.

On either side of Olivia's spine, just at the base of the neck, the broad, flat side of the stones are pressed in with medium intensity, dragged down the mid-back and to the waist, then up. This is repeated four times, easing carefully around bones close to the skin, never crossing over vertebrae. "How's the pressure?"

"I shouldn't fall asleep…not safe to" Olivia whispers in reply, though her eyes are closed, and her breathing slow and steady. The heat makes her body tremble. "I'll let you know if you cause intense pain" she smirks about her injury - though it will keep her awake. "We'll talk. Tell me about yourself. You're not local, why come here?"

Olivia's bronze skin rippling under the firm press of the stones. "Perfect pressure" she assures Royal. "Absolutely perfect."

The stones begin just hot enough to almost risk uncomfortable temperatures, but that oil acts as a buffer. After a few moments, it's easy to acclimate, and the stones do cool slowly over time. Once the muscles have a few moments to begin to ease, she turns the stones on their sides, again beginning at either side of the spine, concentrating on the sacral spine, arguably the area that does the most work in keeping humans upright. "I'd like to say it's a safe space, but this is a work in progress. It will be. Sometime." Although it may take a while before Olivia can trust that, given the givens. If ever. "Sure, well. I moved to Colorado for a relationship. It didn't work out. And Colorado Springs isn't a place I saw myself forever." There's probably more to that, but small steps. "I guess I like the name of this town. And the price was right." And she was a little drunk during her soul searching phase, probably.

The rounded edges of the stones are pressed into the muscle just clear of the vertebral wings, then scooped out again to encourage the release of tension there. She steps up a stone's width at a time, traveling from lower to mid-back, each scoop a press and release.

The soft whoosh of the space heater kicks on and stays on, buffering the room against thin windows and Colorado's fall temperature. "I worked for someone else before. I want to work for myself now. Make my hours and my rules. Which I'm sure is going to mean even more hours, but there's something to be said for self-sufficiency. What brings you here?"

"Sorry to hear about the relationship" Olivia offers with some sympathy. She's handled worse than hot rocks and Royal seems to know what she is doing. "There are no safe places." Nothing like bringing sunshine and light to a conversation. "You like the name? You do know that Calaveras means 'Skull', don't you? Human skull." A horizontal shrug.

"Good luck with your business. Even after a few minutes I'll be recommending you to everyone." As for why Olivia is here… "I specialise in cults and religious crime" she explains. "I can't go into too much detail but I'm sure you've seen the news. There is a local cult causing trouble…" In other words, murdering and trying to blow buildings up. "…so I'm here to do what I can to help out." A pause. "I don't suppose the realtor mentioned all that."

"I don't think I know any other FBI agents," Royal says, leaning over the table again to push the stones down the middle of each side of Olivia's back, over the scapula where she eases pressure. Every time she coasts over a joint or a bone close to the surface, pressure eases until she's past it. "I do know. Skull. But pretty just the same."

She pulls the oil-slick stones back up, and then travels down both arms at once, leaning low over the table to reach. Back of the arm, lighter over the elbow, then again more pressure at the meat of the forearm. She allows the stones to rest in Olivia's palms for a moment, just long enough to warm them. And then she pulls them back up. "Thank you, that's very kind of you." The smile is evident in her voice, and then, the cult is mentioned. "Cults." There's a slight change in her tone there. And a pause. "I'm glad to know the FBI has taken an interest, and more so to meet you."

The blonde relocates to the other end of the table to take a moment to switch out her cooling stones for fresh ones, pulling them from the water with tongs before drying and oiling them. The sacral stone still resting on Olivia's body should still retain some heat. "No." She returns to apply the flat of the warmer stones to the backs of Olivia's calves, still speaking to allow her voice to signal her location in the room before she does so. She uses light and then increasing pressure to warm and ease the muscles of her legs. "No, the realtor did not mention that."

"What a surprise" Olivia sighs about the honesty of realtors. "The cabin that I've hired, they told me it had an inside toilet. What they didn't tell me was that was what it was a bucket." Is she joking? FBI agents are not known for their sense of humor. "You have magic hands" she sighs, this time less from frustration and more from the stress disappearing from her body.
"I wish I could tell you that we were close to getting them, but…" Olivia stops abruptly.
"You're dangerous, Royal. You could get me to say anything. What do you do outside of work?"

"Wow." There's an abbreviated chuckle from the other woman. "Sounds like you and I may have located the same company. Maybe it's a Colorado thing." Royal is silent for a while, but her hands remain in motion, slow, deliberate motion. When she does speak again, she asks, "Have they caused any significant fires?" How the woman has missed this is anyone's guess, though considering her surroundings, there's a fairly good chance she hasn't been listening to much media. There was no television in evidence downstairs, nor is there up here.

"Mostly, when I'm not working or working on this," this being this building, this pile of potential in what is a fast-approaching Colorado winter, "I spend a lot of time checkout out the city. Trying to find some places I'd like to haunt. Admittedly, most of them are bars. The one thing I really miss about home is Kentucky bourbon." So, obviously from Kentucky before her unfortunate romance led her to Colorado, land of freak snow storms. "I heard there's a fancy pastry chef in town, but I haven't made it out to his shop yet."

"No fires as far as I know" Olivia replies, feeling comfortable relating information that is publicly known. "They burned down a ranger station and tried to set off bombs in the local television station and hospital, but nothing more than that. Fire wise." That should make Royal feel better. Right?

And have you found anything worth haunting? "I've been pretty busy…no surprise there…so I have no idea what's around. Pastry chef? I think I better go on longer jogs." A lazy wave of her hand in the direction of her bag. "Wild Turkey in that bag. Help yourself. Kentucky's a long way to come for love."

There's little comment from the blonde until, "A hospital?" Royal shakes her head, working the stones into the muscles of Olivia's upper thighs, careful not to irritate the nerves. The radiant heat does its work, and any time she finds a particularly tense muscle group, she slows down and concentrates on it. The pressure increases on the body, but she eases when she reaches Olivia's feet. She lets the stones rest there on the soles of her feet for about twenty seconds. "Really? Wild Turkey?" She laughs, "That's definitely a piece of home."

"The bar across the way is convenient. And I don't have to cook. I haven't been to the diner, but I heard there's a good one not too far off. Yeah, I hear this particular pastry is worth the extra miles, though." Royal puts the rocks aside and re-ups on the oil, warming it between her palms before she begins a careful massage of the muscles and tendons of the FBI agent's feet. She has strong hands, Even without the rocks, the pressure is unyielding. "Pressure still good?"

"You don't like cooking? I have to admit I'm pretty crap in the kitchen too. My father always used to say that the only thing you needed in the kitchen was a phone. This was before cell phones obviously" Olivia smirks. "Now you don't even need the kitchen. Yeah, Wild Turkey. Seriously, help yourself…unless it will interfere with your work. Because I do not want this magic to stop. Let me know when you need me to roll over."

"Pressure is still perfect" Olivia notes, trying not to moan. She so needed this. "That's Alibi, right? There's a rumor that place has a mechanical bull. Is that true?"

"Cooking is okay, but I don't have a kitchen to do it it." Royal has a kitchen, just not a working kitchen. A kitchen it's probably safe to cook in, rather. "I'm not great, but I get the job done. I'm much better at baking, but a person can't live on stuffed breads and cookies alone. I'll have my drink when you have your snickerdoodle." That sounds absolutely bizarre coming from the mouth of an adult, but there it is nonetheless.

"It does. It does have a mechanical bull, and I have to say the results of that on weekends are amazing. Most wannabe cowboys bounce, but every once in a while, somebody needs an ambulance, I'm sure."

"Yeah, Alibi. I usually just grab a drink and go, but I can watch the fun from here. Always something going down in the parking lot of a bar this far out of the way." She finishes up with the foot massage moments later and says, "OKay, you can go ahead and turn over. Go slow. Your body's gonna be a little looser than you think."

"There are fights in the parking lot? Free entertainment I guess" Olivia snorts. "You don't see drug deals or anything like that… Maybe I shouldn't ask." She will turn over very slowly, happy to take Royal's advice on the matter. The agent is not self-conscious about her nudity though she does tend to avoid looking directly at Royal's face. "As long as you can bake cookies, then all is good in the world. What do you mean you can't live on cookies? News to me."

"Have you tried the bull?" Olivia asks with some mirth in her eyes. "I'm a New Mexico girl originally, I really should give it a go."

"I haven't tried the bull, no." Royal's voice is warm with amusement. "But if you do go in, you should see if those boys'll bet on you. They sometimes do, when they think somebody's too drunk or too female to possibly stay on."

"I don't look all that hard," the blonde replies, still smiling when she says it. Nope, no drug deals witnessed here. "I feel like the staff wouldn't let that go on too long." Royal moves to the head of the table again and begins a shoulder massage, carefully warming up the muscles there before progressing up the neck to the jaw, thumbs easing back down, following the lines of muscle and tendon to loosen without pinching all the delicate anatomy of the throat. She moves around back to cup her palms around Olivia's skull, fingers moving up and down the spine, all four pulling up to the base of the spine, easing off just about two inches into her hairline. And back down, and up again.

"I’ve heard that New Mexico is beautiful, but I haven't ever been there. What do you miss most about it?" She lifts her hands and says, "I'm going to lightly address the tension in your face. If it's uncomfortable, let me know." Her thumbs brush over Olivia's eyebrows, then dip lightly into the socket's upper orbit, staying on the ridge of the brow bone. If there's powder or eyeliner pencil, it may smear a bit, but a few passes can help ease tension headaches, and helps the whole face relax. Unless a person hates having someone else's hands near their eyes, of course.

"I could do with the money" Olivia grins about the bull riding. "I'm tougher than I look." Which is evident when she makes no reaction to her wounded shoulder being massaged. Her brow furrows. "Is Alibi the bar that was closed due to violence? Used to be called something else. Slim Jim or something?" What kind of town has Royal moved into.

The massaging of her scalp almost makes Olivia purr. She would be happy spending the rest of the day doing just this. Though there is a curious look when it stops. "My face looks tense? Umm…it's the only one I got." No objections and no make-up either.

"What do I miss about New Mexico? The emptiness. The solitude. Hmm…that makes me sound like a party animal, doesn't it" Olivia snorts, though she is trying not to move her face too much. She doesn't want to upset Royal's work…and it feels pretty damn good. "What do you miss about Kentucky?"

Her thumbs slip down to edge around Olivia's jaw, just under the hinge, then Royal moves down the table, warm hands finding the muscles at the elbow before moving down the top of the forearm. She works the same muscle group again and again, until she feels it ease a little, then progresses down to the hand, where her fingers do a long, slow draw between the bones of the hand, between phalanges. "You know, I think it might have been renamed. It looks like it's gotten a little updating, and I think I heard one old timer grousing, but I didn't know it was that colorful," she lifts one shoulder in a slight shrug. "I was arriving not too far after that, so I'm not totally sure." Seriously, what's with this town?

Her fingers walk lightly down each finger several times, and she pauses at pressure points to increase pressure slightly, easing off just before it gets uncomfortable. "Your face doesn't look tense, but everyone's is. If you've ever felt that moment when you fully relax just before sleep… it's because we have so many muscles, and they're so rarely relaxed, except in sleep. At least not fully."

And then the right hand. She repeats the motions again, first the forearm, concentrating on stretching out the muscles until they release a bit, then moving to the hand. Each finger is addressed, and deep pressure for the palm. "Kentucky is so green. You get down in the hills and everything is soft and beautiful. The air smells different. The people are friendly, and even folks who didn't grow up there fall in love with the way it feels like home." She returns to each hand twice, taking longer with the one that feels a little tighter—Olivia's gun hand, most likely. "Lots of farms, horses, wide open spaces all full of trees and life and rivers."

The oil she uses is barely scented, but it has a touch of vanilla to it, and it warms when applied, then falls to skin temperature and stays there, gently moisturizing Colorado-abused skin, no doubt dried a bit by indoor heating mechanisms. "And, 'course, the Bourbon Trail. Spend a day drinking samples of the world's finest barrel aged bourbon whiskey."

Olivia is learning she has muscles she never knew about as Royal does her work. And every one of them is lighting up with the masseuse’s magic touch. "Green. Not a color I'm used to in New Mexico" she admits with a faint smile. "You really do like a drink. I feel like we should hurry this up to get to that part" she laughs softly. "What is your favorite brand? Hmm…I don't suppose your boyfriend disappeared because he liked the wrong kind of bourbon?" She is only teasing of course.

Royal returns to the bottom of the table to take one more pass at Olivia's calves, this time with her hands, not the warm stones. She works from knee down, taking a long moment to flex and stretch her feet before wandering back up to knee, down again. "There's something to admire about every distillery in Kentucky, from north to south, and really… if I had to pick three, I'd say Woodford Reserve, Four Roses, and Buffalo Trace." She moves to the other leg to do the same, using her palm over Olivia's shins carefully.

Royal laughs. "No, no though he didn't have the best taste in alcohols." She shakes her head and murmurs. "Just… let's just say I'll think hard before I ever date a firefighter ever again. Never date a coworker unless you're prepared to be around their bullcrap at home and at work. Seems like it'd be ok until you're mad."

A few moments later, she says, "There you are." She smiles. "One hour of deep tissue and stone massage." Royal slides the sacral rock off the table from where it was set when Olivia turned, and she moves it out of the way. "Relax a moment, no rush getting up or moving around. I need to check on Rocky." Her tone remains even and soft, lest she break the spell of the massage.

Olivia makes a mental note of those brands. Royal deserves a 'tip' after this effort. "You were a firefighter? I guess we have related occupations…or did…sort of. Can't say I've felt the need to date another agent" she nods in sympathy. And then the massage is over…damn. "Don't worry, I am in no hurry to move. Though I do feel like I'm floating. That was great. Better than most of the sex I've had. Rocky?" It's none of her business but she is an inquisitive Fed. And if someone has been watching her naked form for an hour, she wants to know!

"I was," Royal affirms, taking a small towel from a little stack to wipe excess oils from her hands. She mms and says, "I met a lot of cops, worked with a few, played with a couple." She can't help but smile at the effusive compliments, because they're certainly good ones. Royal may not work for the city anymore, serving the public in the capacity of a firefighter, but she definitely takes pride in this work too. "Thank you, Olivia. You're very sweet."

"Rocky's my extremely lazy French bulldog. He's probably still napping. He viciously mauled a carrot earlier, and it took a lot out of him." The blonde folds the towel in her hands and sets it aside, moving to the archway to crack open the door that says private. She peers in for a moment, "Yeah, face down." She slips in, pauses with her hand on the door and says, "I'll give you a few moments. If you need to use the facilities, there's one right down the hall. Back in a shake."

"With hands like yours, I am sure you were a popular playmate" Olivia smiles as she slowly sits up. She closes her eyes and shakes her head. "That came out so wrong that I hope you forget I said it." Grabbing her underwear, she starts to get dressed. "A French Bulldog?"

Federal agents do not go gaga over cute puppies! So, it is just as well that Olivia doesn’t see it. As she pulls on her jeans, off goes her phone. There is no other option than taking the call. A frown soon forming as she listens. "A raincheck on those drinks and cookies?" she calls out, dressing a little quicker. "I have to go. Work thing. Lock up tonight." That should make Royal feel secure. Shoving the clip back into her pistol, she is heading off at pace.

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