WALK ALL OVER ME

 

(Note to self. Don't make a New Years' resolution promising more entries before checking to make sure you've got enough topics and content you want to talk about first. It's been months since I had something nipping at my heels...)

I've written previously about the fact I am a huge fan of bodywork. All sorts of massages and therapies. To me it satisfies two different needs with a single experience: muscle relaxation/pain relief, and the need for human contact. Touch. Skin to skin extended intimacy, not for sexual gratification but for physical stimulation of our largest sensory organ, the skin.

In the last couple years I've written about particularly special experiences in Barcelona and San Diego, but have been unable to duplicate those experiences here in my hometown.

My favorite of the more popular bodywork modalities is Thai massage, which involves a lot of stretching, combined with an oil and hot stone massage, which involves a lot of long-stroke rubs across multiple muscle groups. The combination of the two by a practiced bodyworker is heaven to me.

So imagine my pleasure at finding, finally, a bodyworker here in town who is damned good at her job. I'll call her Mary for the sake of discussion, and in all likelihood the name I know her by isn't her real name anyway.

It's been months since I've had any kind of bodywork. Last year I had a huge amount of success losing weight and getting fit. This year I've had a huge amount of success losing all of that ground and regaining the weight and losing the fitness. Bad Rambling. Baaad! 

(It's been an interesting experiment in support of my theory that the lower weight and more fit I am, the more exhibitionist I become. Proven without a doubt. I'm reluctant to undress with my current weight. Last year at this same time - 30+ pounds down from January '22 - I was naked any chance I got.)

So I leaned into it and just decided I was well overdue for some work. My shoulders and lower back were hurting pretty badly from my new sedentary job, and I figured I had to suck it up and just avoid being too embarrassed. And for the record, any professional therapist won't care. But as I told a chiropractic buddy of mine: "it's not your reaction, it's the one between my ears."

So I locate this massage parlor in the north part of the city. It's not the best of neighborhoods, but was less expensive than most, offering a first-time discount.

The front door was locked (an indication of the neighborhood), so I knocked and was let in by a nice young-ish Asian woman, who it turned out was to do my massage. She seemed nice, though only spoke broken English.

The first massage was uneventful but very good. Per a direct comment and a sign on the wall I kept my boxers on. My oft-stated preference is full nudity, but I'd just met her and didn't want to violate the rules. And while they proved problematic, preventing the longer strokes and creating their own issue with the draping, the massage was much better than I expected. Very deep pressure, including ashiatsu, where the masseuse walks on your back and legs. Her feet were quite skilled, and managed to break up a number of knots in my back and thighs. 

Hot stones. Very hot.

That was a couple months ago. Three weeks ago I called and requested Mary for a 90 minute massage. Same experience arriving and getting escorted to the treatment room. Same experience at the start of the massage and working my back. 

But when it came time to work on my legs and buttocks, she was struggling with the boxers, trying to both tuck in the drape while exposing enough of my butt to work effectively. It wasn't happening, and I frankly was getting annoyed.

I stopped her, and mimed taking them off. It took about half a second for her to agree, and to my surprise she wouldn't let me slip them off, insisting instead that she do it herself. Up to this point Mary had been thoroughly professional (and would continue to be so), and I think her logic is that by removing my shorts herself she could control any potential flash. So, off they came and I put my head back in the cradle, and she resumed the massage.

Like this, only indoor with a female therapist

At this point things improved dramatically and immediately. Mary was in her element, and with the barrier of the shorts removed she worked magic on my legs and glutes. The draping was, at best, casual but constant. If the drape fell away she'd finish what she was doing and flip it back into place. Even while standing on my back, her feet accomplished the same gentle and efficient gesture of putting enough of the drape back on to cover the center of my ass - which was exposed a number of times as she worked one side or the other, but always re-covered.

This last week I made my third visit, just to make sure she was as good as I thought.

Mary greeted me as she unlocked the door, and guided me back to the small treatment room. I'd booked a 90 minute combo massage. I undressed completely, laying down on my stomach with a towel across my backside. In a few minutes Mary came in, carrying a bag of oils and hot stones, and removed the towel, replacing it with a head-to-toe sheet (as she'd done previously).

More draping than this.

The next hour and a half was a pure pleasure of deep, intense bodywork involving her forearms, hands and feet. Standing on my back, standing on my thighs, alternating pressure and intensity. My thighs, in particular, were tight, she readily picked up on the tension, spending a little more time on them than my back. Again, particularly when working the glutes, she didn't spend much time folding and refolding the drape. It covered things until she wanted to work on them, then she put it back in place when she was done. Long flowing strokes, being generous with the oils, from my calves up through my back and down again, without concern for underwear getting in the way. 

One of my favorite parts, if I'm honest.

Then, the flip. And here's where it gets kind of amusing, but I understand it completely.

Mary is the consummate professional. She's damned good at what she does, and frankly "anatomy" doesn't bother her. I'm on my back with only a thin sheet covering me. There's no doubt in my mind there are few secrets left. (No, I wasn't erect, even partially. I don't respond to bodywork that way unless the practitioner gets fresh.)

She works my neck and chest, exposing my torso down to below my belly. Long, flowing strokes again are the majority of what she's doing her, and she knows exactly where to move. It's almost like a dance. She moves down to my legs, undraping one to work on it. From the thighs up to the inguinal crease, a little closer to Lil Rambler than most bodyworkers, but still thoroughly professional. I sense she's working on a great massage, not trying to arouse me.

Replacing the drape on one side, she moves to the other leg. Same thing. Right up the inside and outside of the leg, this time banging the boys just a bit as she passes by. Oddly enough, I still have the impression this isn't a come-on.

Finally she finishes with the oil strokes, redrapes me completely from the stomach down, then crawls up between my legs, manipulating the drape on one leg. She then bends that leg up and out, Turning the heel of the foot and putting that on the other leg's inside knee. She presses down, stretching my adductor muscles. She moves up, pressing in on each section of the inside thing, again getting much higher and more intimate than most therapists, but it's actually good. She's getting muscles that typically are ignored, and the stretch is better than most. 

She repeats on the other leg.

Then, still between my legs, she bends both legs out (drape in place), placing her feet squarely into the inguinal crease - right where your leg meets the torso. Both sides, her big toes are pressing right into the notch right next to my nuts. She presses with her feet while pulling on my legs from the calves. I can feel myself tensing but she holds the position until she feels me relax into it. I realize Lil Rambler and the boys are squished between her toes, held down by the thin sheet. She probably knows my religion.

She pulls herself up and moves my legs back into position, then climbs down from the table. In an abrupt, almost managerial voice she instructs me to sit up and move to the end of the bed. I do so, and am completely exposed from the belly down and she climbs back onto the table to do back and torso stretches. They feel great, and neither of us are responding to the drape, which has now fallen onto the floor. She finishes the stretches, hops off the table and retrieves the drape,  handing to me indicating the massage is done.

I was almost wobbly getting off the table. 

I plan on going back later this month and will report appropriately, but I am quite happy to have found someone who knows WTF they are doing. Not just a body rub, not just a lazy, phoned in massage, but an honest-to-God Thai and ashiatsu bodywork experience.

Stay tuned.

Like this, without the erection