Lay your hands on me

Posted: 28/05/2010 in Humour, Serious
Tags: , , , , ,

Yesterday evening, at 7pm, I experienced my first ever professional massage. It was a birthday gift, purchased by my mum because I’d been whining on for weeks about stress at work, tension headaches, and stiffness – in my neck and shoulders. The hint paid off.

You see, going to a massage parlour just isn’t something I would ever do – unless I was forced in to it. I’d be too nervous, embarrassed and anxious about the experience. And, let’s face it, the idea of massage is to relax you.

Before I go on, I must point out that this is a ‘proper’ establishment. There are no ‘extras’ available, no shady deals to be done, and absolutely no blowing your load over the staff.

In fact, they don’t accept male customers at all unless they are referrals from existing female customers (ie husbands, boyfriends, family members etc).

I won’t lie. I was concerned about ‘involuntary bodily responses’ to having some tidy young strumpet run her smooth, oily hands all over my body. I discussed it at length with friends and colleagues at work. We all had a good laugh about it together – you can imagine some of the conversations that took place surrounding the issue I’m sure.

However, the general (serious) opinion was that I would find the whole experience more relaxing than arousing – I just hoped everyone was right.

And they were.

I walked in and was greeted by a very attractive dark-haired lady by the name of Sammie. She was about 5ft 5, very slim, softly spoken and, contrary to the preferred stereotype, was not wearing a very short white nurse-style uniform with high heels and hold-up stockings. Of this fact, I was eternally glad, for obvious reasons.

There was another, less attractive older woman there too. But yep, you guessed it – it was Sammie who was gonna be the one to massage me.

She led me through to a small room with a massage table (obviously), a chair, a CD playing a mix of soft, relaxing music and the sound of waves crashing. There were also two towels on the table and a selection of oils. Sammie instructed me to get undressed and lay on my back on the table, and that she would return in a few minutes. I did as I was told and placed the towel strategically over my ‘gentleman’s area’ and waited for Sammie to return.

As I lay there, I was troubled by thoughts of what would happen if I became aroused, or if I fell asleep, or farted, whilst she was working her magic on me.

I needn’t have worried.

When she returned, Sammie made a little small talk with me for a few moments as she probably sensed I was a little nervous. I made a point of mentioning the fact that both my sister and mum was customers. I don’t really know why, but it made me feel more comfortable and (hopefully) it did her too. At least she could be sure (well, fairly sure) that I wasn’t gonna suddenly develop a lob-on, jump up off the table, bend her over it and ‘put her to the sword’.

Suffice to say, the next 50 minutes or so passed far too quickly for my liking.  But at least I didn’t get a hard-on, fart or embarrass myself in any way, and came out of there feeling relaxed, refreshed and content.

And having faced the ‘taboo’ of receiving a professional massage now, I think I would return for another – provided they’d let me back in the door of course.

  1. Anilu Magloire says:

    LOL!! Would have paid cash to see this whole thing!!

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