My Other First Time, Part I
I originally posted this story as a private post for my Twitter followers - don’t know if any one of them read it - but it’s now viewable to the public. It’s too long for one post, so the final (I think) installment will appear on Thursday. Oh yeah it’s a true story, originally written as a humor piece, I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried. The comments in bold and italics are the conversations I have with myself - you get to listen in. Happy reading!
In 37 years Valerie never had a massage. A professional massage that is, from someone with training and not ulterior motives. She read about the benefits of massage therapy and imagined it was on every woman’s to-do list, right up there next to get Botox injection.
She just never got around to it. Never received a gift certificate. Never went out with girlfriends for a day of pampering. Never bothered. Her idea of pampering was an empty house, a good book and soft music. Occasional solitude was just as rejuvenating, and free.
Of course, this massage was more than an hour of indulgence, but a medical necessity. Valerie tried chiropractic treatments, heating pads and stretching exercises for pain management. She even purchased a portable TENS Unit to alleviate her sciatic nerve pain, but her relief was always short-lived, temporary. Her only other treatment options were: a massage therapist, acupuncture or surgery.
The choice was easy.
Two weeks later, after asking around, she had the name and phone number of a recommend massage therapist who made house calls. She had her doubts about letting a strange man into her home without a work order and clipboard, but he was recommended and didn’t think anything terrible would happen. Unfolding the paper that kept his contact information, Valerie picked up the phone and dialed the number. She never cold-called a strange man before, invited him over to the house and paid him for his services. Gripping the phone and pressing it to her ear, Valerie’s heart thumped with doubt. Was she making the right decision? Was she putting herself in harm’s way?
After the third ring, he answered the phone. Unlike a killer’s voice, loud and abrupt, his voice was pleasant and relaxing. Valerie felt comfortable with his answers and an appointment was made for Saturday morning, 10 a.m.
****
Saturday, early. A little annoyed with herself, Valerie took a sip of the coffee she hoped she’d be done with by now. It’s hard to think about de-stressing and healing on a full bladder. The last thing she wanted was to have to use the bathroom during her first massage session.
While she waited for T to arrive, Valerie went through her mental checklist of things she needed to remember. Did she remember to shave and put on deodorant? Did she remember to use lotion after showering? Did she remember to trim her toe nails?
There was no need to cut the man, unless he really is a killer.
Taking another sip of her coffee Valerie glanced down at the clock on her computer screen. It read 9:45 and her appointment was scheduled for 10:00. T called to say he had a slow leak in his car tire but was on his way.
“Take your time, I’ll be here.”
Now feeling more excited than scared about getting a massage, Valerie wondered if it was a good idea to tell D that he did not have to come and sit watch. This was no different than opening the door for the cable guy, except the cable guy doesn’t get to see her partially naked. Not even for the premium package.
The sound of the doorbell jolted Valerie away from her thoughts and she went downstairs and opened the door. A slender, light-skinned man about 5’ 11”, greeted her with a smile. He doesn’t look like a killer and besides killers don’t ring doorbells. Nor do they show up at your doorstep with a portable radio and a massage table; unless that stuff is stolen and he’s really a robber carrying a body bag and a radio for drowning out the sounds of screaming.
He was referred; invite him in and stop being silly.
“Please, come in.”
Photo by Massage-Certification.com