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Entertainment
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Monday, 20 August 2007 23:26 |
It begins before you even get to my office. You call me, I answer, and
you start asking me things like, "Is it a FULL BODY massage?" Then, you
tell me I sound sexy. You ask if I'M going to do your massage. Before I
became a massage therapist, I always thought that happy endings were
good things. You know, like you read about in fairy tales. "They lived
happily ever after. The End."
People think it's easy to become a massage therapist. I blame the
commercials. They always say "In less than a year, I got on the road to
a health care career!" They never mention that in LESS THAN A YEAR, we
know the names, locations, and functions of every body part. Not just
206 bones, but even the myelin sheath that surrounds the axons of your
neurons. We've studied diseases and skin conditions. We learn about
Eastern medicine, too. This involves energy, points, channels, colors,
seasons, emotions... We packed all of that, and much more, into our
brains. I think that deserves a hint of respect.
You guys come to my office without even taking a shower first. Sir,
you're going to be naked on my table, and I'm only going to be an arm's
length away. It's June, and we're in Florida. The room stinks before
you've even finished undressing. Oh, and you haven't even passed gas
yet... which half of you do.
Most of you start face down. In a way, that's nice for me. You're
can't be too aggressive with your sexual harassment yet. That's what I
think, eh? As soon as I move that towel, you spread your thighs and
lift your ass. I wasn't going to touch your musky hole in the first
place... but I'm having a hard time convincing myself to do your thighs
with all of the funk in the air.
After waving it around for a minute, you realize I'm not going to
be entering your back door. So you sigh unhappily, reach down to
adjust, and lay back on the table. I finish your feet, and it's time to
turn over.
I've continued the massage, you're flipped over. We can pretend all
of that ugliness never happened. Why, oh why, didn't you brush your
teeth? Or chew some gum? I'm massaging your face, pressing on your
sinus points, and you smell like something took a crap in your mouth,
and then died. No, this is NOT a good time for you to reach up and
caress my hand. I didn't want you to do it in the first place, and now
I REALLY don't want you to.
I try to move on as quickly as possible... but then I remember that
I'm getting closer to that other area. You're going to ask me, aren't
you? I cringe the whole time that I massage your stomach. I move the
towel so I can get to your thigh. PHEW! You didn't ask! I'm so
relieved, I forgive the crap from earlier. I'm working on your feet
when I see movement from the corner of my eye.
No, don't! NO! You've moved the towel a little, thinking you're
subtle... and I can smell your nasty sweaty balls. I ignore you
totally. Even if I was that kind of girl, I wouldn't do that for you.
I only have your other leg left, so I hurry. I tell you that the
session is done...and then you ask. "Does this massage have a happy
ending?" I say you should take your time getting dressed and head for
the door. I'm daydreaming of a bath in bleach. Undiluted. You ask
again, because you apparently think I'm deaf. Why not? I can't smell
you, right?
You leave, without leaving me a tip. That's fine, because you're GONE. That's MY happy ending.
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