by Jonathan Barndoor Perry
You hear great things about massages. Then you hear the other stuff, which you assume is largely isolated and somewhat fictional. I least I used to. Last fall I flew to California to see my mom and took a short sidetrip to see my friend Cami who lives in the Bay Area. Our visit together was brief, but we packed in a lot during that time. We ate dinner at an Ethiopian restaurant, had a meal of Cameroonian food the next day at an outdoor market, caught a Regina Spektor concert, and even got massages. I’d never had a proper massage before, so I was really looking forward to it. Cami’s kind of an old hat at massages and had found a favorite place.
The massage was fantastic! It was quite relaxing and thorough, but, um, a bit more thorough than I was expecting. I was surprised when the masseuse climbed onto my back and used her knees and feet to loosen my knotted muscles. I was also surprised when she massaged me like only that special someone might with near pinpoint encroachment of the nethers. Actually, Cami had joked before we went in about the ‘happy ending‘ business and we had a good chuckle knowing we were seeing professionals, but wouldn’t that be funny? Well, it happened.
At some point near the end of my session, the masseuse said something softly I couldn’t quite understand. I had her repeat it and she whispered in my ear & pointed there (an area loosely covered by a towel), asking me if I wanted her to ‘do that’. I nonchalantly said ‘no, thank you’ in a very polite way, as if one was casually turning down a great dessert at a fine restaurant because there are too many calories, though one has truly been craving the molten lava chocolate cake for months. I’m a little repressed.
We left the massage parlor in a normal manner (I accidentally under-tipped) and as we reached the car I told Cami the previous hour’s highlights. She was shocked! Appalled. She wasn’t sure she wanted to go back there again and I don’t believe she has since. Gradually her shock turned to amusement. Weird naked time became a recurring laugh. Cami said her ex hadn’t been offered ‘that’ before (maybe he didn’t fess up), which made me feel just a bit special, though really, I already felt pretty special.
Anyway, the next time you’re in the Bay Area… db
The secret phrase is magic fingers.
Go San Francisco Giants!!
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