Maria tries the massage thing again.

I had sworn that after my last massage, I would never go back.

But, my neck and shoulders talked me into it.

And my sister bought me a free session with a massage therapist. This guy had his own shop and didn't work from his home, which pleased me. And my sister paid over 100 smackers for the gift certificate, so I felt like I should at least give it a shot. I checked out his web site first to ascertain that he was not going to try to sell me statues of Jesus or something since my sister tends to get names off the bulletin board of her church and the last time she bought me a gift certificate it was to a bakery and when I got there, I discovered that they only baked bread in religious shapes. I am not kidding...I got to choose from a cross, a heart with a little pepper arrow pierced through it and cupcakes with little sayings on them like Jesus loves me! and Jesus wept and God bless you!

I asked them if they had any cakes with the face of Jesus painted on them and the owner surprised the hell out of me by showing me actual cakes in the fridge case with yes...frosting renderings of Jesus, Mary and even a huge one of Jesus and Mary Magdalene.

And you know that I had to buy the Jesus face cake.

Bing, Liv and I enjoyed it so much, although I did feel a bit squeamish about slicing up the face of God's only son. And Liv did request that I not give her the nose of Jesus....

So, I did my homework this time. I was not wanting to walk into a massage and hear the bible quoted to me while I got the kinks out of my spine.

I was pleasantly surprised. This was just a regular guy who massaged people for money.

Well, for big money...

I walked in and took a deep breath. It smelled very nice in there, like patchouli and lemons. And the music was not too new agey. It had little prings and tangs but wasn't anything I couldn't stand for an hour.

I was led into a very warm room with the standard massage table with the hole insert for your face. It was swathed in soft looking white sheets. I was told by the woman who led me into the room to please undress completely, lay down under the sheets and wait for "Stephen."

I did this.

Several moments later a very tall, gangly man, who did not resemble Jesus at all, but looked more like James Taylor, walked in. He was wearing a red t shirt and jeans. And he smiled very cordially at me as if we were meeting at a party and I wasn't buck naked under the soft sheet.

We shook hands and he asked me why I was there.

I explained that I sat hunched in a chair for most of the day and that I was also fighting an illness and it just took the wind right out of my sails on most days and yes, that my neck and shoulders often ached.

He took one of my hands and said, "Well, I can see that your wrists are a bit swollen too, let's take care of that first."

And then he started gently flipping my hands back and forth like little fish. I was amazed to hear my fingers and wrist joints crack, although I didn't feel a thing.

And they did feel very....limp.

He began at my feet and massaged them for so long that I almost reminded him that my feet didn't hurt a bit, that we only had an hour here, buddy...and maybe he should be working on my neck and shoulders.

Except that it really felt quite nice.

And the best part?

He didn't insist on talking to me, didn't try to draw me out or try to get me to share about my "feelings."

He just massaged my feet and then moved up my legs, to my stomach and arms.

I felt like a lovely loaf of bread being kneaded by warm, happy hands.

In short, I relaxed like a fucking rag doll.

By the time he got to my face, I was nearly asleep. I looked up to see him looking at me quietly beneath his hands, which were cupped around my jaw. He tugged a few times, quite gently and I almost wept from the release I felt. Like honey flowing all through my pores, down my neck and into my shoulders.

And he had not said a word! I loved this guy. I hate it when people who cut your hair or give your manicures feel as if they have to try to draw you out. I don't really want to talk gossip with hairdressers. I don't care about celebrity gossip either.

So, this was nice.

And it got even nicer when he had me turn over (he gallantly held the sheet up above his head and told me to "just spin around softly now.")

I spun around softly.

I lay with my head through the little hole and again, he began with my feet. He firmly began kneading the backs of my legs and I felt like I could probably lay there all night. I furtively looked at my watch and happily noticed that only a half hour had gone by.

And then he made one misstep. He spoke.

He said, "Yes, that is right. Just relax completely. That's it. Your buttocks are splayed nicely."

MY BUTTOCKS WERE SPLAYED NICELY?

I was suddenly embarrassed, as if I were some randy young thing in the back of a convertible, doing the nasty with James Taylor.

I was very aware now of my....splayed ass.

And you know what happened. I tightened up like he was coming at me with a dildo. I felt my anus snap shut, was surprised it didn't make a slamming sound.

He seemed to realize that he had said the exact wrong thing, because he shut up completely again and went back to work on my legs. I still had trouble relaxing, so he went up to my lower back and poured some sort of oil on my back and rubbed it in carefully and with great precision.

And once more, I relaxed. I did worry a bit about my splayed ass but decided to let it go and just enjoy as long as he didn't feel the need to tell me about it.

He wisely did not.

By the time he reached my shoulders, I was once again a wet noodle in his talented hands. He spent a long time on my back and shoulders and I could feel myself falling asleep.

And caught myself. It was bad enough that my buttocks had splayed. I did not want to fall asleep and drool through the little hole on to the floor as well...

I did not want to be the topic of a dinner conversation with his wife.

"I had this client today and she was so damn relaxed that she splayed her buttocks out and drooled all over the floor!"

Nope. I wanted to be a good client, one that he would want to see again. And again.

Because he really was THAT good.

He finished by patting me on my back and whispering in my ear that he would wait for me out in the outer room.

When I heard the door click shut, I blearily got to my feet and dressed, feeling as if I had just had the best fucking sex of my life. I am serious. I was POST ORGASMIC blissful and relaxed.

I caught a look at myself in the mirror before I went out and was stunned to see that I also looked like I had just had some real special lovin' by my wife...

Would I go home and be all flushed and pink cheeked and luminous and have Bing go out and buy a gun?

Even my hair looked all tousled and sexy. Frankly, I looked better than I had in years.

I felt almost shy as I went to hand my gift certificate to the receptionist.

James Taylor's twin was waiting for me at the door. He took both of my hands in his and said, "Please come back again. I think it would serve you well..."

I nodded shyly and thanked him. I almost felt....giggly.

When I arrived home, Bing and Liv had dinner waiting for me and both commented that I looked "rested."

Yup. I was rested all right....

And boy howdy, I was ready for more.