Almost every table in the breakfast room was occupied and the din of conversation could have been called a dull roar. Roni leaned close to be heard.
"Every muscle in my body aches," she said. "I doubt I could get onto skis again tomorrow."
"That wouldn't disappoint me," I said. "We tried. We fell down. We're sore. There must be a few antique shops in town to visit."
"Okay, but what am I going to do. I'm in pain."
"Have you tried aspirin?"
"They did nothing."
"The soreness should go away in a couple days."
"Thanks a lot."
I shrugged. "When athletes strain muscles they get a massage. All these ski resorts have massage therapists."
"That will be expensive."
I shrugged again. "So what? Make an appointment."
We finished breakfast and went back to our room where Roni called the extension listed in the resort guide. No answer.
"How can they not be there?" she said.
"Who knows? I'll find them."
I hopped on the elevator and two minutes later, stopped at the reception desk.
"How do I make an appointment for my wife to get a massage?"
"Extension 349," the desk clerk said.
"No answer."
"Beats me," he said. "They're on the first floor, one below the lobby. You might want to check."
The elevator dropped me off in front of a wall of windows giving me a great view of the snowy valley. A sign said: Pool, Lockers, Gym, Massage, with an arrow pointing to the left.
I found no one sitting at the reception desk in the therapist's office. To the right, a sign on a door said: Women. Knock before entering. I knocked. No one answered. To the left was a door marked Men with the same message. I knocked again.
A voice from behind the door said, "If you're a man come in."
I opened the door and felt a blast of hot, damp air. A man about fifty wearing a white polo shirt and white slacks, who I assumed was the masseur, turned to me.
"Close the door. I don't want him to get a draft."
Him was a naked man lying face down on a massage table.
"I'm trying to make an appointment for my wife to get a massage, but no one answers the phone and there's no one in the woman's room next door."
"Yeah," he said, "The receptionist is off today and the therapist got sick yesterday and called in today."
"My wife's a first time skier who's a hurting cowgirl. Is the masseuse coming in tomorrow?"
"Probably not. I think she's got the flu."
The masseur spoke like he came from Brooklyn and looked like he'd be right at home training a prize fighter.
"Shit," I said.
"If she's in bad shape, I got an hour open at eleven or five."
"You'd do the massage?"
"I'm it."
That sounded okay to me, but I wondered if Roni would like getting a massage from this burly middle-aged guy.
"Will she be like this customer?" I pointed to the nude man.
"That's the way we do massages."
That sounded even better.
"I'll ask her. Eleven o'clock would be best. Can I leave a message with someone?"
"I'll pencil her in."
I gave him her name and room number.
"If she changes her mind, tell someone at the front desk."
"Does she just come here?"
"She can change in the locker room or take her clothes off in your room and wear one of the hotel robes down. Most people do that."
"Okay, I'll bring her down."
"Good. She gets fifteen minutes in the steam cabinet and forty-five on the table. The steam will make her sweat. Tell her to bring a towel to wrap around her hair." He paused a moment. "She gonna have a problem doing this naked?"
I didn't know if Roni would go for it, but I loved the sound of her laying nude on a table getting fondled by this guy. I felt a twinge in my groin and my cock had started to harden. I love the idea of men seeing my wife nude. Doctors, massage therapists, peeping toms, friends, and neighbors.
"I guess it depends on how much she wants to get rid of the pain."
"Look, I'm licensed and I've done women before. Tell her I'm not gonna do anything to jeopardize my license. You got a problem with it?"
I didn't smile, but wanted to. "I guess not. Her doctor sees her nude."
He shrugged. "If she wants, you can stay in the room with her."