After my torturous, nearly 50 hour long migraine, I decided to go back and get another massage. Boyfriend was very supportive of this, and he sent me along with his debit card ::swoon:: – I love a man who hands over his money like that.
When I called to schedule, they informed me that my sweet, sweet Patricia was booked. “Booked!?” I replied {probably sounding a bit more upset than seemed reasonable}. “Well, who else is open? Maybe I could try some deep tissue. My shoulders have been killing me” I said. “Doug” the woman on the other end replied “does amaaaaaazing deep tissue work.” Her extra aaaaaas intrigued me. “Perfect. Can I be in at eight?” I asked. “He’s open!” she said.
I did my usual pre-massage routine. Which just happens to be similar to that of my pre-date or pre-first-time-whoopie routines. This includes deep exfoliating, shaving … everything, lots of body wash, scrubbing of feet, and tons of deoderant. Because I like to smell fresh.
I showed up to the clinic, and who was there, but my favorite boy – Dillon. As I walked through the door he said “I saw you coming, so I checked you in.” Then he flashed a wildly creepy half-smile that reminded me of the way this kid named Mike smiled at me in eighth grade … before he told me he would kill his parents for me.
Dillon invited me to the ever-popular “quiet room” and told me to relax. He then said he would go get Doug for me. This is not usually done – it’s like the receptionist at your doctor’s office bringing them out to you in the waiting room — quite unusual. I could hear them talking in the hallway, and then he came out.
Doug. Is. Hot. Tall, muscular, tan, blonde hair, blue eyes. My knees shaked before I even stood up. I felt flustered. I felt hot flashes. I felt nauseaus. And then — it happened. I realized something. Something that would make this whole situation even more awkward. I was not wearing any underwear. Yeah. None.
We got into Doug’s “relaxation space” and he told me to undress to my comfort level and he would be back in a few minutes. As I stripped down to my b-day suit [which is 12 lbs. lighter ...by the by] I was nervous about how this would go. Massage feels like such an intimate thing – and to have a man who looked like he belonged in Playgirl covering me in lotion – made me feel guilty.
I crawled in between the sheets and waited. Doug knocked and came in the room. He explained that he is a deep tissue masseuse, so he would be using his knuckles, his elbows and his hands … his huge, strong hands. My head was in the giant pillow at the end of the table, and it took everything in me not to giggle like a ten year old.
“If I’m too rough, just kick me in the head or something, okay?” he said.
If I were single I would have spouted off a list of flirtatious comments like: “You could never be too rough with me” or “How did you know that’s what I was into … haha… just kidding. No I’m not. What?”
Then – out of nowhere – Doug pulled the sheet down … to my high, tight, behind. He took an awkward breath and said “I… uh, like your, uh, tattoo” – obviously referring to the tramp stamp I got freshman year in college. “Thanks, Doug” I replied — in a weirdly sensual tone.
He started massaging me – and I was in heaven. He knew exactly what to do, and even when it hurt, it was goooood. He kept asking “You okay down there?” and every time I had to fight back the laughter that was bubbling under my skin. “Yeah” I would say meekely “it feels great”
Then, Doug asked me to flip over. This whole massage thing was totally different with a guy, and I flipped onto my back holding my breastacles tight. It was like the first time a boy saw them ever. And Doug couldn’t even see them! After I was flipped, he came and sat at the head of the table, so he was looking down at me — Spiderman kiss style.
Then, he started rubbing my shoulders. And it happened.
“You have a lot of tension in your upper chest” Doug said. “Riiiiiight here” — and he proceeded to grab side boob, and top boob. I could not believe Doug was getting side-boob! Boyfriend has to work for that! And what made it worse, was that Doug was able to see my face now. If I held back laughter – he would know.
“Yeah, my shoulder on the right side has been tweaked since I played basketball” I said – in the hopes that it would shift my mind to something less giggle-enducing.
“Well – I’d push harder. But I don’t want you to hate me in the morning” Doug said. Then I looked up at him – trying to smile. I said “Oh, yeah” . And he said “I would never want that.” On the outside I was cool as a cucumber. But my head was screaming “WHERE ARE YOU? WHAT’S HAPPENING? WHERE WAS DOUG WHEN YOU WERE SINGLE AND EASY?!”
Then, before I knew it, the hour was over. “I’ll meet you out front” Doug said. But when I opened the door to go to the front desk, Doug was right there. With a bottle of water. “Don’t forget about coming back to me. I think we could get some good work done on that shoulder”
I smiled, and nodded. And all I could think about was that Sex & The City episode where Samantha hears about the masseuse that goes down on the middle aged women at her spa. Then she hits on him, gets him fired, and gets herself kicked out of said spa. I started letting the giggles out on the long walk back to Dillon. Back to my car. Back to my house. And then I blurted it out to Boyfriend, and we both laughed and talked about how I would probably blog about this tomorrow at work.
Sigh. Boyfriend may not be as new & exciting as Doug, but he sure gets me.
And incase you were wondering … yes. I already made my next appointment with Douglas.
