I'd been wanting a massage for months, but didn't feel like making an appointment or spending money, so I waited until I went home and asked mom to set up an appointment for me (I still had to pay). Mom had heard of a new place in Northport from a coworker, and booked appointments for me and Lindsay on the Saturday I was home.
I waited as long as possible to get out of bed, declining to take a shower in order to stay horizontal longer. I wasn't feeling amazing after one and a half fishbowls of margaritas (the remaining half had ended up on the table and floor), but knew a massage was a relatively undemanding activity, aside from walking to the car and driving there. I could probably handle it.
We arrived at the massage place after a grueling 4 minute car ride. I've always had masseuses that were older than me, but now that I am getting older, the tables have started to turn. The girls working there were really young. I'm starting to see why my mom doesn't love massages. I don't want someone younger and fitter than me touching my body. Worse, still, one girl looked very familiar.
"Oh, God. Did I go to high school with this girl?" I didn't even think about that possibility, but it could easily happen in my hometown. Thankfully, after staring at her face long enough, I determined that I did not know her and felt extremely relieved.
Lindsay and I went to our rooms--mine was called "Water"--and prepared for our massages. I undressed and got on the table. At last, my work was done and I could now enjoy lying still in the darkness, which was the only thing that I wanted to do.
The masseuse, we'll call her Jennifer, entered and let me know that she doesn't talk much during sessions.
"Okay," I said. My head preferred silence, too.
Jennifer started massaging me over the sheets for a little warm up, but then climbed up on the table and onto my back. I was stunned. I've never had a masseuse on top of me before. I've seen this in movies, but not in real life, and certainly not in suburbia. At one point, while she was pulling my hair, none-the-less, she leaned over so far that I was certain she was going to lay down on me. Do I have a safe-word for this massage? I wondered.
She dismounted after what felt like 15 minutes, and began a more "regular" massage. It stayed "regular" for about five minutes until she moved down to my butt. I've had masseuses massage the area where the back meets the butt, but I haven't had full hands grabbing and massaging my ass before, and that's just what she did. Was this because I told her my lower back was sore? Is lower back code for butt? Her hands would leave, massage a different area (like my back), but she always made her way back to my hiney as though it was some sort of magnet. I began to worry about what would happen when I had to turn over. This was such a hands-on massage, I feared she was going to grab my boobs.
"Please turn over," she said.
Oh no, I thought. It's gonna happen.
She started massaging my upper chest, leaving the sheets up to cover me in a respectful manner. She'd move her hands close, closer, VERY CLOSE, but never actually touched them. Thank goodness.
Though never completely relaxed, I did feel pretty good as we approached the end of our hour together. She wrapped up with a few moves, pressed on my stomach, then leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Thank you."
She left me to dress. I wasn't sure if I could look her in the face as I paid her for this sensual encounter, and I kept my eyes lowered at the register. I noted that there were a few men in the lobby at this point, and damn, they were about to have a good time.
Lindsay and I got to the car. My hangover was completely sweated out. When the door was shut, I turned to my sister.
"Did your climb on top of you?" I asked.
"Yeah, I thought only Asian girls did that to bad guys!"
"Like in Charlie's Angeles?"
"Uh huh."
"Me too."
We compared notes. Both of us had a LOT of butt massage, and both were thanked in a sultry whisper at the conclusion. I felt like I should have been warned about what was going to happen, but I can see myself being a repeat customer.
