A man in a beret waved at me through a shop window and smiled. I waved and shrugged my shoulders as if to say, "And who the hell are you?", but I couldn't help but smile back. With his round face, dark ringlets, and little pink mouth, the man looked like a slightly-perverted cherub. He wasn't beatiful, but he exuded sensuality.
I was about to go, when the man gestured for me to come inside I looked inside, and saw a massage chair.
The thought of a massage freeby sounded pretty tempting, so I went in.
The interior was plain, more like a doctor's office than a spa. A receptionist — a brunette in her early twenties — sat behind the front desk. The man who'd waved at me got up from the window-seat, and while grinning extended his hand. Soft skin, firm grip.
"I'm Jay. I do massage and acupuncture. This is my studio."
So he wasn't just a client trying to pick me up.
"What are you doing in this area?"
"I was just looking for a place to eat. The tea shop next door looks good but it's closed."
"Oh they make the best cookies."
The receptionist nodded emphatically.
"They're closed now," he added. "But the Chinese place should still be open and it's good."
"I just wanted something to munch on. Not a dinner."
He nodded sympathetically.
To fill the silence, I picked up the brochure. The prices were unusually high.
"Want to try a free 15 minute massage?"
I nodded and sat down on the massage chair. He placed his hands on my shoulders and rested them there for a second. His hands felt warm. As he slid his palms down my spine, sadness filled me. It had been so long since I'd been touched. I closed my eyes and focused on the sensations: his thumbs brushing over knots, his digits tapping at the tension in my mid back; his hands swirling around my hips. I felt a warmth rise up my body. Turn-on. When he massaged my arms and shoulders, the pain dissipated. His hands slowed, and then rested on back. Heat seeped into my body through his hands.
Quietly, he said,"That's it."
I got up, feeling touched in more ways than one. His face looked soft and gentle. If I was a cat, I'd curl up next to him.
"Thank you," I said and meant it.
"Would you like to set up an appointment?"
"Yeah," I nodded, and set up a massage. (Freebies have a way of costing ya.)
Two days before our scheduled appointment, Jay called me to cancel.
"I have a family emergency, I'm so sorry,"
In the background, I heard a baby crying.
"Don't worry," I told him. "Family first. I totally get it."
I did get it. My parents had been sick with one thing or another for a long time, and I knew that family came first.
"Can we meet on Sunday at two? I'll give you an even bigger discount."
"Sure,"
Saturday night, I found his brochure stashed in my glove compartment. It had his photo. I showed it to my mom and she giggled. I don't know if it was the beret, the hint of a smile or his long lashes, but the man exuded sex. I wondered if I should cancel the appointment and simply ask him out, but I didn't.
On Sunday, when I walked into his spa, it was empty. Just as I was about to look at the knick-knacks on the shelves, he stepped into the foyer.
"Hi Maria."
He looked warm and sweet.
I felt pleased that he remembered my name.
"Hey Jay,"
"You can come this way," he said, touching my hand. The touch felt unnecessary, uncalled for. Was he flirting or was he a touchy-feely sort of person?
He led me to a small rectangular room painted pale yellow. A massage table stood in the middle of the room, and two small chairs stood by the wall. He took one chair, and I the other.
What kind of massage would you like?
"Relaxation, so light-to-medium pressure."
He nodded.
"Usually I can take it pretty hard, but I just was to relax now."
He cocked his eyebrows.
"I can give a lot of pressure." He lifted his hands — his hands were meaty. "I've got big hands," he said, grinning.
"Okay light pressure." My eyes must have twinkled at the double entendre.
"First, I'd like to do some physical alignment, so you can just lie down. You don't have to take off your clothes for this part."
I got on top of the massage table and put my face into the headrest. He picked up my arm, and jerked it a few times.
"Let go."
I noticed that my shoulder muscles were contracted, so I exhaled and tried to relax them.
"Good!"
"I'll leave now, and you can disrobe and lie down under the covers."
He left and I took off my clothes, and as I did, it occurred to me that he would have enjoyed the sight of me undressing. I'd been working out almost every day for the last couple of weeks. My tummy looked flat, which made my melon-sized breasts look even bigger.
He returned and put on some new-agey music.
Like the first time on the massage chair, he rested his hands on the center of my back, heating my muscles and preparing me for a massage. Then I felt a very unusual sensation on my back, like he was rolling a wooden acupressure roller over my back. Then I realized that he was rolling his knuckles over my back. I've had many massages, but his technique was unusual. I figured it must have come from practicing Chinese medicine.
I wanted to ask him about it, but decided not to badger him.
He ran his hands down my back, around my hips and up my sides. As he stroked up, his fingers brushed the sides of my breasts. I wondered if Jay was breaking any rules by doing this, but I said nothing. It felt too good. It had always seemed a pity to me that masseurs didn't do breasts. It felt so fucking good.
After Jay finished my back, he started massaging my arms. He took my forearm into his hand and stroked down, so that his hand ended up in mine. I squeezed my fingers around his. The gesture was spontaneous, but it made heat rise to my cheeks.
After he massaged my arms, I asked him to massage my hip joints. I had some pain in my low back, and thought it might be due to tight hips.
JAY wrapped his fingers around my hip-bones, dug in, and stroked up, but my body didn't sigh as I'd expected it to. The problem was somewhere else.
