This last year I splurged and bought three discounted massages on Groupon. I love massages, so I figured I would take some time off and pamper myself for a change. Well, as life would have it, free time just didn’t happen. I wound up panicking as the expiration dates started staring me in the face. I remembered that the idea had been to relax a little and pamper myself, so I bit the bullet and scheduled one a month for three months.
I wasn’t sure what to expect using the Groupons, but the first two women were really nice and the spas they worked in were soothing. I started to look forward to the third one at yet another spa. When I got there yesterday, I was surprised to find the massage therapist was a big dude. I know there are male massage therapists, but I’d never had a massage from a man I wasn’t married to. Hey, I’m a grown woman. I can handle it. We’re all adults here. It’s just a massage. Clinical. Impersonal. Like a visit to the doctor. If the doctor used his ungloved hands to rub your entire body with lightly scented oil that is.
He was very businesslike, so I decided not to run away screaming. I smiled politely as he led me to the massage room. He gave me a basket for my belongings and told me to take off everything but my panties and to ring the bell once I was on my back under the sheets. Okay. I can do this. I stripped down and quickly huddled under the warm blankets; just me and my Victoria’s Secret hipsters. I pulled the sheets up to my chin, but figured that might send the wrong message. I put my arms out and rang the bell.
He came in, lit a candle and turned the lights down low. He put on some soft music. I tried to look relaxed and thought it might be better if I just closed my eyes. He moved by my head and started massaging my neck. His hands were big and strong and he could easily palm my entire neck in one hand. I soon found myself relaxing as he went out of his way to make sure that he kept me covered and comfortable.
When he moved down to my legs, he pulled one out at a time wrapping the sheets underneath to keep me covered. Not so bad. When he worked his way back around to my head, he told me he was going to lift the sheets to make a curtain, so I could turn over. That got me a little worried, but he lifted them in front of his face. I still wasn’t taking any chances and flipped onto my stomach in record time like a sprung mouse trap. I put my face into the donut thing and tried to relax again as he covered me back up.
He moved down to my right leg, pulling it out of the sheets and wrapping them underneath like he did when I was on my back. As he worked his way to the upper part of my leg, he asked me if I wanted him to do my glutes. Now I just want to interject here that I have had female massage therapists rub my butt muscles which usually consisted of a forearm or elbow to the butt cheek while covered by the sheets. I paused briefly, but didn’t want to sound silly; and I had been doing a lot of yard work lately making them a little sore, so I agreed.
Before I could say anything, he pulled back the sheets and said “Sorry for the wedgie.” He then pulled my hipsters over and buried them in my butt crack and started rubbing on my naked booty cheek. Now I’m trying not to freak out. That skin hasn’t been touched by another man besides my husband in like 100 years. “Just relax” I told myself because tensing up was only going to make it worse. I’m glad there are no cameras under the donut thing because I’m sure the look on my face was priceless.
I tried to act nonchalant, like having my butt rubbed by a strange man wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. I just thought that was the awkward part, but no. When he finished with the right side, he actually reached in and removed the wedgie from my butt crack. Now he entered Stranger Danger territory. I can take care of my own wedgies, thank you. You do not belong in my nooks and crannies.
I only had a minute to recover before he moved to the left side and started over. Sigh. Just relax.