The Crossover Read Online Free Page A

evening. Do you have a membership or is this your first visit?” asked the receptionist behind the counter.
    “We have guest passes,” I replied as I slid them across the desk.
    Maxine’s was a contemporary and upscale spa. It was a white complex that had large one-way mirrors facing the street. The parking lot had a uniformed valet to park your car. There was a large canopy outside that led you to the main entrance. You almost forgot you were visiting a spa. Inside the facility, the décor was an elegant ivory and there was a large smoothie bar off to the left with members on bar stools listening to piped in music. There was a steady stream of patrons coming and going. Behind the counter was a LED sign of services provided. It was as if the staff were the most beautiful of the races they represented, Hispanic, Asian, White and Black. Everyone had noble facial features and sculpted bodies that were suitable for magazine spreads.
    Maxine’s was once a car dealership that folded when the Cash for Clunkers government scheme failed to honor some of its financial commitments.
    I reached for my wallet and retrieved my VISA.
    “Today is a special day, and I would like my girl to have the VIP treatment,” I said, as I placed my arm around her waist.
    “Clay, all I really need is a massage,” Monet whispered in my ear.
    “All right, babe. Whatever you want.”
    While reading the LED sign something caught my attention so I enquired.
    “Excuse me, but what does Gay Friendly mean?”
    The woman smiled and was eager to explain.
    “Gay friendly simply means we are respectful of all people and their relationships. Our staff and our patrons are from all walks of life and we embrace that.”
    From a business perspective it made sense so I dropped it at that.
    Monet presented her VISA and offered to treat me to the VIP treatment. My first instinct was to decline because it was very expensive but I reluctantly said yes.
    The guest passes only covered use of the machines and the sauna.
    The receptionist hit a few strokes on her keyboard and within moments a strikingly attractive male masseur emerged from the double doors to our left. He was Italian-looking, about 6’2”, built like an Olympic gymnast and dressed in all white. His entrance could have been accompanied by a theme song. His eyebrows were arched and he had short, black, gelled hair. Monet noticed him and her reaction made me feel a little insecure. It wasn’t what she said, it was her body language. I prayed to dear God that Mr. Fabio was not her masseur. I couldn’t bear the thought of her being alone in a room with him with just a towel to cover her half-naked body.
    I seized the moment to take control.
    “Hey, sweetheart my masseur is here. Guess I’ll see you in an hour. Love you, babe,” I said as I walked to the gentleman with the Superman physique.
    The receptionist intervened to my dismay.
    “Sir, you have the VIP treatment. Your appointment is with Tammy, she’s a new trainee. She will be here very soon. Mario, please show our new guest to the women’s changing room.”
    Damn.
    Monet waved at me as Mario kindly escorted her past the lobby down the corridor.
    I think she sensed my unease. My poker face sucks.
    “Don’t worry, sir. She’s in good hands. Mario will take good care of her.”
    “Yeah, okay,” I said as I watched them engage in chitchat until they passed through the automatic sliding glass doors.
    I stood like a spoiled brat with my arms crossed trying to suppress my frustration.
    “Excuse me, how long is her session with Mario?”
    “It’s an hour, would you like extra time?”
    “Ah, hell no. I mean, no thanks.”
    My inside voice slipped out.
    “What’s the VIP treatment?” I asked.
    While leaning over the counter, someone tapped me on my back and winked.
    “Hi, I’m Tammy and welcome to Maxine’s.”
    Okay. Monet gets Adonis and I get Tammy the tranny. Nice.
    Tammy could have played point guard for the Lakers. She was taller