so here's the rub...
"so..." my friend drawled out as we got in the car. "didja get naked?"
"damn right i got naked," i cheered. "girl, i was doffing clothes before the door latched."
"no!" she screamed, looking at me with a mix of glee and disbelief. "you did not get naked!"
"honey, listen," i replied. "i shaved my legs for this. i shaved lots of things for this. if you think i wasn't going to take it to its origins, you're sadly mistaken, my friend. if i'm going to let someone i just met seduce me with their gentle voice and promises of hot bags, then i'm in. it's all access."
"besides," i continued as we left the massage therapy school. "i believe the proper term for it is 'getting comfortable.'
i got so comfortable, in fact, that i believe losing my massage virginity this past saturday has put me on the path to being an utter massage whore. good heavens, whoever invented the practice of allowing another person to put you face down on a table so they could run their slippery hands all over your "as comfortable as you wish" body should be awarded a humanitarian prize. a gold-plated lotion holster, perhaps.
i'd even forgive them the apparent massage therapist code that states crazy ass 'atmospheric' music (or worse...enya!) must be played while the rubbing commences.
you may recall that i got together this weekend with some girlfriends. our plan was to "debrief and detox" our way through the two days we were together, and on the agenda was massages. not being one to stand in the way of order, i totally debriefed when my massage therapist stepped around the counter and called my name.
ok, not immediately. i waited until she took me in the back, plied me with chocolates, asked me what my expectations of a massage were, and told me she'd only touch my butt if i asked her to before i dropped my panties.
yes, i gave up my massage innocence to a woman, and nothing could have made me happier.
wait! something did make me happier, actually. when she referred to my ass as my "back porch," that made me happy. happy like a giggly school girl. i've never in my life heard an ass referred to as such, and now i'm totally planning on seducing my husband on valentine's day with that label alone. i've already been jotting down porch references to be prepared. it'll work. it really doesn't take much.
but back to the woman. vicky. sweet as can be, like a grandma. that should probably be creepy, because she could have easily been my grandma, but i tried not to think too much about that as she was getting ready to work on my back porch.
the woman was magic! of course, i have no basis of comparison, but if all massages are as good as the one i got on saturday, then i'm sad i've gone this far in life and not ever had one. cripes, my husband won't even rub my feet! not even when i put them on his back porch and playfully ask. vicky politely and gently talked me through the process and coached me on how to breath as she reached some insanely tense spots in my back and shoulders. if kissing her wouldn't have been frowned upon and resulted in the immediate cessation of the massage, i'd have sat right up and planted one on her for taking away the stress of my life in the 90 glorious minutes we shared together.
after 45 minutes totally devoted to the back side of my body, vicky got me in place to attend to the front and within minutes, i was asleep. seriously. not that deep rapid eye movement kind of sleep, but that gentle, light sleep where your brain tells you you're this close to going totally under, but it's impossible to pull yourself fully back out. i caught myself damn near purring like a kitten a couple of times. after another 45 minutes of bliss (i assume. seriously, i was on a different zone), grandma vicky actually had to give me a little shake to let me know our time together was up.
so like the first time i had sex, now that i've gotten a little taste of what this good life is all about, i'm totally wanting to be all over it. if i could find a way to swing the $45 for each 90 minute session, i'd be exclusive with vicky every couple of weeks.
kind of like the first time i had sex, actually.
but without the part where money was exchanged. and the part where it was with a woman.
"i still can't believe you took off all your clothes," my friend continued as we drove off, enroute to go get facials (where i kept my clothes on. except for my shirt and bra. for some reason, they got talked off me for that). "didn'tcha feel all weird and stuff?"
"not at all," i countered. "and honey, remember. i know you. you got naked for a lot less than a back rub back in the day. i believe you also called it 'getting comfortable.'"