unhappy endings

Originally uploaded by kristalynn.

i love massages. i usually ache. i ache everywhere. i ache inside, i ache outside. my soul aches. i've been on a perpetual search for an effective massage therapist; someone who can ease those aches, get entrenched enough to mend what ails me.

i found him. and despite a skirmish over an expired gift certificate, we developed a professional rapport. i saw him a couple of times a year - all that i could afford since i don't have a health plan.

i got a call two weeks ago.

"i had a fight with the administration. i've left the club."

"oh no."

"they’re spreading nasty rumors about me. they told the gays that i don't like them."

"you don't like the gays?"

"no, i like the gays. they tip very well."

yes, they do.

"so I’m looking for a new space, but in the meantime i'm offering massages at people's homes. since you've been such a good client, i'll come to your place and give you a free massage."


"should i set up my table, or do you want me to massage you on your bed?" was his first question.

the heat, humidity, and strong hands were lulling me into a rare state of relaxation. and then i noticed his hands were venturing into uncharted territory.

my eyes shot open while my face remained in that round head holder. he had de-stroked and was down by my calf. i decided to second-guess myself and wait for the next venture to see if what i thought was really happening was really happening, if it is was a simple slip of the lavender body lube. confirmed: he was aiming for the nether regions.

how do i handle this, how do i handle this?" my mind raced. was i relaxed? no, i was no longer relaxed.

"is this too much for you?" he whispered in my ear, in what i guess was an attempt at sexy seductionness.

i looked at him. sweat was pouring down his face.

i sat up, holding on to my towel, which had *curiously* become loose. "you look like you need some water." the disdain was evident in my voice.

"no thanks." he wiped his brow and then continued to massage my neck. "you're so tense..." he clichéd.

his smelly, sweaty man thumbs grabbed a large amount of skin on my back, and under the guise of a massage, pulled it up. the release of said skin, which was adhered to the towel due to the humidity, pulled down on the towel.

he attempted the sexy talk again, "is this towel going to stay on forever?"

"yeah, it is." i hopped off the table and gave him my “get-out-of-my-house” stare. it’s a look i’ve perfected over the years.

"okay, your turn." he tossed his massage lotion belt at me.

"no." i flicked it aside.

"krista," he sighed and patted his massage table, "sit."

gawwd. i rolled my eyes, tugged my towel tight and asked him what his deal was.

"even though i am a professional, i have trouble separating my work from what my heart feels. my eyes see, krista. and my eyes don't lie."

"i'm putting some clothes on." i stomped into my bathroom and came out and read him the riot act.

"i'm not looking for marriage, you know," he pursued.

"that doesn't give you the right to touch my perineum."

he's so fired.

"can i come back next week?" were his parting words.

word of mouth is the best advertisement. does anyone want his number?