I hired a masseuse a couple of weeks ago. It was Kay’s idea to make this an out-call appointment. I spent the day straightening my bedroom and making space for her table. It turned out to be a rainy afternoon. So I cracked the window to let the cool washed air and the crash of the droplets in. Very soothing. iTunes was set with a mix of South American and vintage lounge tunes. Friends thought it was strange to pay a person for a massage when I have a lover that could easily do it. I told them that a massage between lovers usually ends with sex. Besides, an exchange of currency for services is probably the most honest relationship that a person can enter into. With that in mind, I waited eagerly.

Kay arrived in due course. Soaking wet and quite attractive. I took her table upstairs and we chatted while she set it up and I filled out some release and medical history forms. The conversation was informal and friendly. At one point, Kay kneeled to pull some items from her bag. I noticed a waistband of her white thongs peaking out from her skirt. This thought I promptly put out of mind. I signed the form. Kay excused herself from my room while I undressed to my boxer-briefs and crawled under the blankets on her table.

Soon she returned. We chatted some more while she dug her fingers and palms into my muscles. Self-conscious about the layer of fat over many of those muscles, I am sure I tensed needlessly. She pushed my flesh around and asked for my feedback. “Is that to hard?” I groaned occasionally. At times, she would dig too deep and I let her know. Sometimes, the extra push just felt good. I let my natural high pain threshold take me deeper. Kay worked at my back. Due-diligence was given to each muscle. Before she switched her attention to my legs, Kay feathered her fingers over my back. My hair danced as the sensations danced on my spine.

The whole session was an interchange of pain and pleasure. I groaned and moaned when Kay bore down on my. When she went to far, I let her know. When Kay’s fingers danced their light jig, I felt nerve endings reach up to her. Nearly naked and laid out on a table, I was at Kay’s beckon whim. And I was thoroughly comfortable with that. She could apply any depth of pain she wanted and my cry would be too late to stop her. The pain inflicted, I would only have stopped it. I let a stranger into my room, my sanctum-sanctora, and willingly placed myself in her hands. Her part was too provide me with the affect we agreed to at the outset of this session relaxation.I happily paid Kay for her hour of work. The massage left me relaxed and reconnected to my skin. Oddly, it left me energized and looking forward to the rest of the day. I should make another appointment with her soon.