"Petr" wrote me back! *sigh* I love that masseur of mine.
Yes, it was good for me too (I have to wear these baggy trousers so my clients can't see my nordic wood, if you know what I mean).
While there are too many saggy church ladies and enough women of a "certain age" who smell like the centerfold of Cosmo, every once in a while I'll get a good client, someone who knows how to get touched, knows how move under the massage, knows how to take what these professional hands can give so well. They look demure, like their next stop might be a board meeting for their volunteer organization or a quick stop for coffee with their old coworkers. But, secretly, there's a randy side to the best of them, a side they probably don't even show to their husbands, their lovers, and it's impossible not to imagine what they're dreaming about when they feel the way I work. Maybe I'm part of their story? And, without saying a word, I know it, I can feel it, I can almost hear it and I just have to do something to convey that I'm in synch. I try to savor it, I go a little slower than normal, keeping the client covered up so I don't go too fast, and I work the body slowly, uncovering, revealing, exploring, as I go. I can't do anything outright, I have to be professional and I can't say anything. But the right ones, the good ones, hear what my hands say. I've come close a couple times. I've thought about crossing the line, of going too far. But then, if i go for my happy ending, my clients, my partner, might lose hers. And then, she won't come back every month for the next year. I'm patient, I'm willing to wait for the good ones. I'm a professional.
I didn't know Playgirl had a Letters column... :-/
Posted by: AVERAGE JOE | October 15, 2004 at 01:54 PM
I figured there just hadn't been enough Vince Vaughn lately. Either way, he's totally been replaced!
Posted by: Xdm | October 15, 2004 at 03:09 PM